


We Are Who We Are

by Kateis_Cakeis



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Modern Era, Or less resurrection and more Arthur waking up you know?, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 05, Resurrection, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-01 01:52:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12146064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kateis_Cakeis/pseuds/Kateis_Cakeis
Summary: For as much as Merlin waited, Arthur watched. Both were trapped by time, both observed as the days ticked on. Though, Arthur would rise again, both were aware of that. But had no idea when. Merlin knew it was in Albion’s greatest need. Arthur didn’t know if it would happen at all.And if Arthur did return, what would that entail? Happiness? Dread? Anguish? Or was there a chance for love, in a time so different, so new?





	1. An Unrecognisable World

One thousand, five hundred years.

Or there about. Give rather than take. Add several decades, a few single years, couple of months and perhaps a day, along with hours and seconds mixed in and you’d have the number.

The number. _That number._

The thing had just kept growing and growing over the years and with each extra decade or century, hope was draining. The lake rippled with no remorse, the tower crumbled with age and the country transformed in time. What was once a land of wonder, danger, plains and forests… was now a place of farmland as countryside and tall buildings instead of castles. Monarchy was reduced to public appearances rather than control, for better rather than worse. Parliament lay in its place, so different to inherited power or being raised to lead.

Things had changed, a lot. Language evolved. Views transformed. History was lost. Truth became legend. Legend became myth. And it was all just stories. None of which could be true, to the modern person.

But to one stubborn old – _very old_ – man, it was very true. It was incredibly real. He had lived it, breathed it, almost died with it. Yet, he was there and the rest were not. He survived while everything around him faded away.

Castles to ruins, mystic lands to dust, people to time. And so much more. Every stone, tree or brick, it all wasted away in the end. No matter what it was. Except for him. He had waited and waited and would wait till the end of time, if he had to.

Though, a dragon long since dead, had spoken the rest of the prophecy, letting hope live on in even the most hopeless man. The _Once_ **and** Future King. Which meant little now, people don’t get to be kings like _that_ anymore. But it wasn’t about that, it was never about that.

The Once and Future King, to _him_. Once upon a time, in the fifth and sixth century there was a great king, like no other. And what was the future? Now? Later? Never? Well, not never. But the future is the future and whenever it wishes to be known, that’s when. The future king to no land, but to one person.

And he had waited, unlike anyone else. Any person knew that. Everyone he came across knew, just knew, he was waiting for something. But few knew what, over the years. They saw it in his eyes, in his expressions and his voice. At any opportune moment, his emotions would flood out. Just like any flash flood, it was always over in seconds. Lord knows he knew how to control the floodgates. He just never knew when they’d burst, again.

However, there was something in the air. In recent days, there was something drawing Merlin to the lake. Something powerful, or his desperation. Because he was desperate, in a way that he wasn’t but also was. How he’d do anything but wouldn’t do anything at all. He had waited so long that he knew nothing could be done and waiting was fruitless. Yet, he still believed. Believed in the prophecy, the shared destiny, believed in _Arthur_. Believed in every force in the world.

The blue lorry rushed passed him like an unforgiving force. Causing his hair to whirl around him, it’s thinness not resulting in too much bother. His bags bashed against him, unforgivingly but his old demeanour would hardly let it affect him. He only kept walking, with this unwavering look.

Poor Merlin had wished for many futures, in many times. A hundred years after his death. After Camelot’s destruction. In the 1600s. And the 1700s. Especially the 1800s. Desperately the 1920s. Wishing in the 1960s. Begging and pleading with all he had left in 2010s.

Nevertheless, it was only in the 2010s that he had felt such a power emanating from the lake. As he walked passed where the tower was parallel to him, he couldn’t help but sigh. His shoulders slumped. His eyes could only dip to the ground. His head just sinking. Even so, he felt enough hope to press on. To walk far enough that he could cut through the hedgerow and make it to the spot he had last seen his other side of the coin. The half of the whole.

He wasn’t there quite yet. It hardly felt urgent. He barely knew what was coming. All he knew was that hope was slipping through his fingers and this felt like the last year he could hold on. Even the last day. He was strong-willed enough to make it this far. But with a few centuries of isolation and all sorts of misery, the man could scarcely hold onto the hope that the boy once had.

He knew the usual place to cut through. He could have gone through the gate at the far end or through the car park at another but, no, only the space between two hedges would do for Merlin. He slipped through, like all that age wasn’t showing and he journeyed forward. Towards… the place. Vastly different now. Everything had changed around this area. The forest was gone, a road cut through right by the lake. The place was a heritage site, a tourist destination. People came for walks along here, for ice cream and coffee from vans. To let their dogs run wild in the lake, throwing sticks, stones and balls for them. Children would run free along the grass and would paddle happily in the lake. Even surpassing the coldness of it. It was always cold but hell this was Alb- Britain. Great, not so great, in fact quite terrible, Britain. Cold, nasty, rainy and gloomy Britain. Or Albion, it was always really Albion, to Merlin. Names change, as does everything else.

As he approached the very spot, or near enough to it, he just sat down. Sat down and watched the world move around him. He watched as children dived into the lake, it was November, it was freezing but they did so regardless. As did the dogs, but they had fur on them. People, with their winter coats wrapped around them, just walked and hiked along, enjoying a cold day out. But that’s what people do, they go out in the cold and still enjoy the day. That’s just the way of the people.

Merlin observed as couples held hands, as joggers ran past him and as people chased their dogs around trying to retrieve the ball. Merlin couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of one woman holding a stick above her head, preventing her dog from biting it.

“Walking stick,” Merlin murmured.

Not entirely a walking stick yet, but there was hope it could be one, eventually. And Merlin laughed again as he surveyed it. It was all curvy in all the right locations, which made it perfect for a staff but, it wasn’t as solid. And soon enough, Merlin was stifling a chuckle as the woman put the stick on the ground, holding it upright, giving in to the dog who was gnawing on the bottom of it.

The day was closing and the people retired to their cars or walked home. But Merlin only took off his bags and rearranged them in such a way that allowed him to create a pillow, an uncomfortable one at that. He pulled his hat down further, covering his eyes and lay back. His hands settled on his stomach, his legs lay stretched out. He still had no idea why he was there or what he was doing but he still felt an unusual sense of hope. So bizarre.

Then his thoughts drifted. He attempted to remember why he took to his older looking self. Why he didn’t just stay looking young. Until he recalled. Looking young, only brought back memories of the man he once was. Of who he was in Camelot, with all his friends, the people he knew… and Arthur. Of the boy who was looking for a new start rather than his destiny. The young man who saved the day but caused the inevitable to happen. Indirectly but still, his actions caused such pain. Not only to himself. And he knew those actions, those decisions, had changed him far too much. Had destroyed his morals and along with it, everything he cared for. But who knew if it could have been avoided, perhaps fate always finds a way in the end.

Then the memories rushed back. The goblin, the pixie, the troll and most importantly, all the embarrassing things he did to Arthur. Then it hit him like a brick, again. Because Arthur was gone and Merlin was by this lake only because of _hope_. Well, what had hope done for him recently? Nothing much. It only drained away from him like a tap that’s been left to drip constantly, infinitely.

That was until-

“That’s you, isn’t it?” He felt a slight and gentle kick to his foot. “I can tell from the terrible fashion sense and-”

Merlin bolted up, pulling the hat from his head. He looked up, his vision slightly blurred from almost falling asleep. His eyes, the beautiful blue stared forward, stared upward, trying to take in what he had heard, what he could see.

Blonde hair, brilliant blue eyes, armour, chainmail and a royal red cloak.

Merlin was half convinced he had finally gone mad, I mean, after one thousand five hundred years, it would be a given but… no. Something about this. The voice, what he was seeing, the kick. It was real. It had to be. Otherwise he _really_ was insane.

“How… can that be you, Arthur? This- can’t be real.”

Arthur glanced behind him, to the lake. “Either this is real or I’m dreaming.”

“Then I’m dreaming,” Merlin assured.

Arthur shook his head and folded his arms. “No, this is my dream.”

“If anyone here is dreaming, it’s me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

“How so?”

Arthur gently kicked Merlin’s boot again. “Does that hurt?”

“A little.”

“And you feel it?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re not dreaming.” Arthur glared at Merlin and raised his eyebrows.

Merlin rolled his eyes and gently kicked Arthur’s boot in return.

“Always knew you were a girl’s petticoat, Merlin.” He smirked and crouched down. “I felt that so I’m not dreaming.”

“…This is real?”

Arthur nodded. “As real as it gets.”

Merlin stared, still way out of it. “Why are you so calm?”

“Long story.” Arthur transformed his little stare into more of a gaze. “You’re immortal but look old… I watched you change and never understood why,” he thought out loud.

Merlin’s eyes widened as he tried to think, his brain was foggy. “…You could see?”

“ ** _Long. Story_** ,” Arthur emphasised.

Merlin pressed his lips into a thin line, thinking. “…I wanted to look old because looking young was too painful.”

Arthur’s eyes filled with a special sadness. “I’m sorry…”

“Not your fault…”

“To be fair, I _died_. Then, the others-” Arthur cut himself off, blinking back tears.

“It was my fault you died in the first place.”

“ **Never** say that. You did what you thought would keep me alive, I do know that…”

“It was selfish.”

Arthur folded in on himself. “It was selfless. You risked everything, all the time, to keep me alive. Maybe it was selfish to do so, but to me, it’s selfless.”

Merlin smiled, a little. And Arthur’s eyes lit up like the afternoon sun with that. It was the first time Merlin had smiled with such happiness in a long, long while.

Arthur patted Merlin’s knee. “Can you make yourself look young again?”

Merlin smirked, knowing full well that he could. He kept a steady gaze on Arthur and they only settled for eye contact. “ _Edniwe min geoguð_.” His eyes flashed with that special golden colour that consumed his irises. Like an overwhelming force, taking over the blue and replacing it with a colour that made his pupils stand out and his demeanor seem somewhat menacing yet peaceful.

Arthur watched as Merlin’s long white hair disappeared, being replaced with the short dark black hair that used to be. He observed as Merlin’s beard shrunk away until there was nothing but light stubble. The wrinkles upon his skin dissipated and his hands were restored to their young state. His coat became a little big and his strength seemed to return once more. After a little more than a minute, Merlin was back to his younger looking self.

What was once a spell that couldn’t break such a powerful ageing spell, now could. Due to centuries of being weak and tired and almost unable to keep it up. And due to the oh so powerful magic that he knew ran through him.

Arthur couldn’t stop staring, he was immersed. “You’re beautiful...” He couldn’t help but say it, he had been watching for a long time, he had to say such a thing. He had been trapped with only one person to watch and to watch for so many years, he just had to blurt it out.

Merlin stared, with a furrowed brow. In which, if he furrowed his brow anymore, those wrinkles were going to come running back to him in an instant. “What- did you- just- What?”

Arthur shook his head, sternly. “Don’t tell me, after all this time, you really are an idiot.”

“Spell it out for me.”

Arthur fell back and drew his knees to his chest, his eyes were wary, uncertain. “You do it.”

Merlin’s lips twitched upwards. “Clotpole.”

“Idiot.” His eyes were fond as he uttered the insult once more.

“Prat.”

Arthur drew in a breath. “Ok… Fine…”

Merlin raised his eyebrows, another smile sprung to his lips. “Ran out of insults?”

“Never.” Arthur smirked, knowing that he had no other insult to throw at this point in time.

Merlin smiled, more this time. It was a true grin, like everything melted away. And Arthur felt that smile with all his soul, he could feel every reason why that smile was so great and perfect and true.

“I’ll spell it out then,” Arthur said. “I love you,” he declared with such a softness in his voice it would make butter melt all over the bench and drip down the cupboards until the floor was covered.

Merlin’s eyes filled, welled up. He had to lean back on his hands to steady himself because hearing those words, not just seeing them being mouthed to him, that made his heart explode with a thousand emotions at once. He closed his eyes, savouring what he could of the moment.

“Hey,” Arthur called, tenderly kicking Merlin’s foot again. “That wasn’t too much, was it?” he wondered, a certain fear resided in his eyes.

“No…” Merlin whispered, opening his eyes.

He breathed in so deeply that he felt like his lungs would burst if he ever breathed out. Which he eventually had to do, to, you know, breathe. It took him a moment, it took him more than a few but he had to calm himself before he could even think of speaking again. And Arthur just watched, like he had done for centuries upon centuries. He waited and watched, with eyes full of every positive light.

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut, unsure of how to say it or say anything. Or do anything because it was all so surreal. All of it. “God…” he murmured, at last. “I love you too.”

Arthur beamed like nothing mattered in that moment. Like the chill of a November night was the warmth of a July evening. Like the mist forming upon the lake was simply not even there. Like the dark was light and that the time was not edging towards midnight.

Then the moment was snapped from them as a car or van or lorry blared along the road. Doing sixty on a forty or was it a thirty mile an hour road? Regardless, it was loud and brought the two back to reality. In which, to anyone who could have possibly been there, saw a man step out of a lake completely dry, an old man become young and a conversation in a language that was barely remembered. Luckily for Merlin and Arthur, such a person did not exist and they were truly alone but together.

“We should get back, to your… house. Is it…” Arthur eyes darted back and forth, left to right. “That way.” He pointed behind Merlin, to the left of him.

Merlin smiled, his eyes smiled. Trust me, if his arms and legs could smile, they’d be smiling as well. “You know it isn’t.”

Arthur smirked, with the smuggest expression in the world on. “I only wanted to see that smile again.”

“‘Course.” Merlin felt his eyes weigh heavy. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

Arthur stood up and offered his hand, to which Merlin accepted and Arthur hauled him up. Merlin picked one of his bags up and Arthur took the other and the two started their journey, to Merlin’s house. To what would become _their_ **home**.

The two walked along country roads and dirt tracks, and as light signalled dawn, they were far from the lake. Merlin guided them along a thin road, leading to a house or cottage surrounded by trees. It was made from stone that would only cast your mind back and it was clear work had been done to it over time. Over a long time. You could see where moss once resided or where a weak wooden door used to stand. Nevertheless, it was a place of decent size and old times. It had two stories, a thatched roof and shrubs and greenery all around it. A little stone path led up to the door and behind the cottage itself, there was a small patch of garden and the trees dispersed into an acre of land, all belonging to Merlin.

“Looks better in person,” Arthur said, his eyes gleamed at how it made the very different world seem non-existent.

“Do you know where the stones are from?”

“Yes… Camelot.” Arthur narrowed his eyes for a millisecond. “There was a law about stealing stones.”

Merlin chuckled. “You can’t put me in the dungeons these days, sire.”

Arthur swiftly glanced at Merlin. “Don’t address me like that again.”

“Why?”

“I’m not a king anymore and this is… a changed world. I… don’t want to have titles.”

Merlin faintly frowned. “Alright…”

Arthur placed a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, pulling him to stop, turning him in order to face him. “Those times are gone and I want to be normal.”

Merlin scoffed. “Normal? Nothing about this is normal.”

“What, you mean to say people don’t normally rise up from the dead after fifteen centuries and aren’t usually immortal?” Arthur teasingly wondered.

Merlin chortled. “No, not at all. Though, destiny usually has a hand in those things.”

“And fate and prophecy and magic, lots of magic.”

“Hmm, all the magic in the world.”

Arthur wrapped his arm around Merlin, spinning him around. “Come on, I’m exhausted.”

The duo finally made it into the house. While the outside of the cottage was old and deceiving, inside was a mix of old and new. To the left, behind a door, lay the living room. With an old sofa in front of a fireplace and another, much newer, sofa in front of a TV. To the right, also behind a door, was the kitchen and dining area. The table was clearly not new, same for the dining chairs. However, the kitchen was modern and the whole house had central heating and lights. It had running water too.

“I watched you build this place… Watched you bringing things from Camelot and buying new furniture.”

Merlin stared at Arthur for a brief moment. “Go in there.” He pointed to the door on the left. “Sit on the sofa. I’ll bring you some water.” His eyes darted to the ceiling, in thought. “Wait… do you want to get changed?”

Arthur glanced down at his armour, his chainmail. “Yes.”

“We’ll do that first then, follow me.”

Merlin went to the end of the corridor and walked up the stairs, guiding Arthur to the first door anyone would see once they got up to the landing. Inside was the guest bedroom, complete with a single bed and sliding wardrobes. Arthur went to sit on the bed and Merlin pulled one of the sliding doors open, picking out a red shirt and some joggers.

“These alright?” he asked, his voice sounding unsure.

“Was the red an unconscious or conscious decision?” Arthur wondered, smiling.

Merlin stared at the clothes he pulled out. “Definitely unconscious.”

“And… what are those?” Arthur pointed at the pants.

“Tracksuit bottoms or joggers as most people call them… Thought it would be more comfortable.”

Arthur nodded and stood up. He unfastened his cloak and let it drop down onto the bed. Merlin carefully placed the neatly ironed clothes on the bed and walked up behind Arthur. He slowly but surely fell straight back into doing what was once his job. Soon enough, Arthur’s armour and chainmail was off and heavily lay on the floor.

“You’ve never forgotten how to do this?”

Merlin scoffed, grinning. “I did it enough times.”

“Fair…”

“I’m sure you can get changed on your own,” Merlin said, stepping around to face Arthur.

“Can’t be too hard.” Arthur grinned.

“I’ll go prepare that glass of water.” Merlin edged towards the door.

“Hardest task you’ve ever had to perform.”

“Same to you. You’ve always had trouble dressing yourself.”

The two shared a glare mixed in with an adoring gaze for a few moments. They knew that they could throw another insult into the bag or tease a bit more but at the same time it was a stalemate. Until that was broken when Merlin ducked out of the room.

By the time they were both on the sofa – opposite the fireplace – and Arthur had drank for the first time in fifteen centuries, the time for questions and answers raised its sweet ugly head.

“You were watching me, all that time?”

“Yes. Yes, I was.”

“How? What happened to you?”

Arthur’s eyes diverted to the ground. “I’ll start from the beginning…”

Merlin nodded and with that, Arthur began.

“I heard you whisper, _‘Stay with me’_ , and then there was nothing. Just darkness. Then, I opened my eyes. The only light I saw was blue, a Sidhe. He said destiny awaited me but for now they’d grant me one request. All I could think of was you…” Arthur paused for a moment, taking a sip of his water. “I asked him to let me see you, watch you. All of a sudden, in the darkness, this image appeared of you.” Arthur stared into space for a second, recalling. “You were… crying. You were lying in your bed crying your eyes out and believe me, if I could have cried I would have.” Arthur swallowed a lump in his throat. “It was like I was there, in the darkness but wasn’t. It was as if only my mind was there but I could see you and that was my only tether.”

Merlin, now with tears in his eyes, placed a hand upon Arthur’s. The two held on tightly, as if the world would fall to pieces if they ever let go.

“How much did you see?” Merlin asked, curious.

Arthur smiled to himself. “Everything.”

“Everything?”

“Yes, everything.”

Merlin’s mouth hung open. “Even- And- When I- got dressed?”

“I turned away for that… Most of the time,” Arthur admitted.

“Arthur!” Merlin squealed, scorning.

“What was I supposed to do, watch the darkness?”

“Yes, exactly that!”

Arthur sighed. “Don’t get your undergarments in a twist, I turned away for the most part.”

“Let me get this straight, you turned away when I was… naked?”

“Yes, I did.” Arthur’s eyes shifted. “…I looked once, that was it,” he admitted, relaxing now that it was out in the open.

Merlin glared, wide eyed. “Once? When…?”

“Uhh, why do you want to know?”

“Just tell me, I have a right to know.”

Arthur shrugged, half-heartedly. “I think it was… in the… sixteenth century.”

“Why?”

Arthur’s jaw clenched. “…I’m not talking about this.”

“Oh my god… It wasn’t when… Oh.”

Arthur’s lips twisted. “Yes… It was an accident really, I didn’t mean to.”

“…And that was the only time?”

“I think so...”

“You think?”

“I don’t know, my memory is a little hazy.”

Merlin huffed. “Alright…” He shook his head, shaking away thoughts. “You may as well continue?”

Arthur nodded. “One day… around three hundred years ago, the Sidhe were under attack. One appeared in front of me, utterly panicked. She told me that I would wake one day and that it was fate but she didn’t know when. She then informed me that the Lady of the Lake was attacking and that the Sidhe would surely be destroyed. I think she wanted to let me know that price to pay was time.”

“The Lady of the Lake?”

“From what I know, she attacked the Sidhe. They tried to defend but she destroyed them all, taking herself out with them. I don’t know why she did it or why she did it at that particular time but the Sidhe are no more and neither is she.”

Merlin glanced to the ground. “I… Freya…”

“You knew her?”

“I freed her from a bounty hunter once… I thought I was in love with her but… I just wanted to protect her, wasn’t love.” Merlin took a breath. “I went down to the lake three hundred years ago and I begged the Sidhe to let you live. Freya must have heard me and-”

Arthur reassuringly squeezed Merlin’s hand. “She died in the hope that one day I’d live…”

Merlin nodded slowly. “She sacrificed herself because of my grief.”

Arthur looked sympathetically towards Merlin. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine…” Merlin faced Arthur. “She protected Excalibur… Do you know what happened to it?”

Arthur shook his head. “It’s probably at the bottom of that lake. It’s not our problem anymore.”

“It will be if something happens.”

“Nothing will happen.”

“…It might. Kilgharrah said you’d rise when Albion’s need is greatest.”

Arthur smiled with such assurance, as if he knew everything the future held. “Albion doesn’t exist anymore, you are all that is left.”

Merlin tilted his head, his eyebrows collapsed downwards. “You think- Kilgharrah meant me?”

“Yes. I know your thought process, Merlin. I saw…” Arthur pointed to a rope that sat on the chest of drawers at the side of the room. “That’s what Kilgharrah meant, what the Sidhe knew was fate. That I’d always be at your side when you need me the most.” He felt his eyes well up. “Why would you think of trying, if you know it wouldn’t- kill you…?”

Merlin’s eyes filled with moisture and a tear escape, running down the lines of his face. “I wanted to get close, to feel it…”

“Were you planning on, finding Excalibur…?” Arthur asked, his voice small.

Merlin sniffled. “…Yes.”

Arthur nodded, with such sadness. “I could feel what was coming, you know… I only hoped I could come back in time, to save you from yourself. And I did.” His expression was soft and the tiniest smile lay on his lips.

“You’ve saved me, but for how long?” Merlin looked to Arthur with eyes still full of grief. “You’ll die again one day.”

Arthur withdrew his hand from Merlin’s hold and wrapped his arm around him, pulling him closer. “No, I won’t.”

“Wha- What?”

“You don’t know all of the prophecy, do you?”

Merlin sighed. “Seems no one told me anything back then.”

“You are the most powerful warlock ever known and your path lies with mine, the Once and Future King. _Your_ destiny was to protect me, using the magic you were gifted with. _My_ destiny was to unite Albion and embrace magic but I didn’t… which led to one part of the prophecy coming true. That I would die by Mordred’s hand. The rest of the prophecy foretold that I would rise again in Albion’s greatest need, but it was translated wrong because it was your greatest need, not Albion’s. As people have said, we’re two halves of the same whole, two sides of the same coin. We’re meant to be, together. Our destinies are intertwined because you would not exist without me.” Arthur breathed in deeply, shakily. “The last of the prophecy says that the Once and Future King will rise again and the two halves will be whole for an eternity.”

“…How do you know?”

“The Sidhe.”

“They could have lied.”

Arthur shook his head, he grasped Merlin’s hand with his own. “They didn’t only let me watch you. Before any of that, they did a spell on me, telling me it was their duty. That they were wrong in the past but they knew what that had to do. That was their part to play, in all of this.” Arthur sighed and leaned closer to Merlin. “They told me directly, when it was clear magic was a lost art. It was only them and you. They told me because they had nothing else to do.”

“When did you become so wise?”

“Comes from watching an idiot for fifteen centuries.” Arthur smirked while his eyes were completely smitten.

“Pompous prat.”

“At least I wasn’t the worst manservant in all of history.”

“You didn’t like _George_.”

“George wasn’t _you_ … He didn’t challenge me.”

“And… you _like_ being called a prat?”

“I especially enjoy being called a clotpole, because that isn’t a word.”

“It is…” Merlin protested, inching closer to Arthur.

“Oohh, is it?”

“The definition of Clotpole is Dollophead. The definition of Dollophead is-”

“Prince Arthur, I remember.”

“Guess we should change that to ‘Arthur Pendragon’ now.”

“I suppose we should.”

Arthur leant his head upon Merlin’s. He stared into the cold and sorrowful fireplace. He recalled the roaring fire in his chambers and all the times he’d just stand by it to get warm. Or how it would crackle behind him as he ate. Then his mind drifted to Merlin and how he was alive. That his destiny lay side by side with his most trusted, loyal friend. His best friend. His love. He cast his mind to one evening, long ago, in which Merlin sacrificed every one of his morals, in the belief that it would save him.

“Light the fire- with your magic… Please?”

Merlin’s eyes darted to the corner and narrowed. “Why?”

“It’s freezing.”

“…Is that the only reason?”

“Magic is fun to watch.”

Merlin hummed with the warmth emitting from Arthur’s head, it seemed to ground him. “Is it _reallly_?”

“It’s beautiful and I’m sorry that I couldn’t see that back then.”

“When did that change for you?”

“The moment I came to my senses, the day I-” Arthur sighed, deeply, his shoulders raised and fell like a geyser spurting water up. “And because I’ve watched you for so long. Saw the amount of good it does.”

Merlin smiled, quite happily. “ _Forbearnan_.”

The fire crackled and roared into existence. It lit the room up and casted out the shadows of the forest onto the walls. It added to the little natural light that already shone into the room. It brought a perfect glow, a lovely warmth and most importantly, a sense of familiarity.

“When did you realise that you were in love with me?” Merlin questioned, as the two just sat staring into the fire, resting on one another.

“The time I thought you had died, when they tried to replace you with, _George_.” The way that name rolled off of Arthur’s tongue made it sound like poison, like it was the worst thing in the world. “That’s when I realised but I think I always knew. Remember when you drank from that poisoned cup?”

Merlin grimaced at the memory. “Yes… I remember.”

“I defied my father- Went on my own, to save you… I think that’s when I fell for you but I didn’t realise at the time what it was. I only knew I couldn’t lose you.”

“That early on?”

“Yes, that early.” Arthur smiled softly. “When did you realise?”

“I realised after your- your death… For the first time in years I had no one to protect, no one to risk my life for every day. Only then did I realise what I felt, truly felt. As for when I probably fell for you… You know when that Bastet attacked Camelot?”

“That bat thing?”

“Yes… That was Freya, before she became the Lady of the Lake.”

“Oh…”

“Remember after all that, when you comforted me?”

“Yeah.” Arthur smiled, faintly, as memories sparked in his mind.

“I think that’s roughly when. Somewhere around there.”

Arthur closed his eyes as they became unbearably heavy. He could fall fast asleep here. In front of the fire, leaning upon Merlin’s head. All that warmth, all that comforting feeling. To know he was finally back, with the one person he had been watching for so, so long.

“I’m going to fall asleep leaning on your head…”

“You must be really tired.”

“Mmm.” Arthur’s eyes collapsed shut and suddenly Merlin felt a much heavier weight upon him.

“Are you asleep?”

No reply but instead, a snore. Which only made Merlin laugh. It was so incredibly reassuring to hear that snore once more. The noise that had kept Merlin awake in woods, time and time again. Especially when the next day required all the energy he could ever give.

Merlin, gradually, slipped out of Arthur’s hold. Gently, he laid him down on the sofa. Quietly, he approached the chest of drawers and opened one, grabbing a blanket. With one swift movement, he lay it on top of Arthur. He watched for a second, still taking in the fact that Arthur was alive. Actually alive. He could see him breathing, hear him snoring. And that was enough comfort to last him a century.

Merlin retreated to his own bedroom, the master bedroom. Complete with Camelot wardrobes and a nice, comfortable, modern bed. By the time he was settled – underneath the covers – he fell into the best and deepest sleep possible.

And with the whoosh of a few curtains, bringing the afternoon light into the room, Merlin groaned at the signal of, ‘time to wake up’.

“Let’s have you lazy daisy!” Arthur bellowed, with a clear chuckle between the words.

Merlin rolled over, to avoid the light, pulling another pillow over his head. “That’s _my_ phrase,” he mumbled.

Arthur solidly put his hands upon his hips. “Do I have to come over there…?” he asked, with a grin that only spelled horseplay.

“Don’t- dare- you- What? No, don’t.” Subconsciously, he curled up into a ball.

The sound of metal scrapping across wood indicated that Arthur had most certainly picked up an ornament of some kind. Either a chalice or a decorative plate. Nevertheless, if something wasn’t done, it was going to come hurling directly at him.

“Ok, ok!” Merlin jumped out of bed, immediately feeling dizzy from getting up so fast. “I’m up- up. I’m up!” He blinked rapidly, steadying himself against the wall.

Arthur set the chalice he was holding back onto the table beside him. “I thought we could get some… breakfast- lunch, somewhere?”

Merlin rubbed his eyes, removing the sleep from them. “There’s a pub, in the village down the road.” Merlin took a second for his brain to catch up with him, to wake itself up. “…Do you- Can you speak English?”

“It’s not hard,” Arthur said, in English, rather than the old, outdated version.

“You learnt?”

“At the same time as you.” Arthur smiled, slightly. “What’s the rules then? Do we keep our language alive or not?”

Merlin shrugged. “Its time is long since gone.”

“English it is then.” Arthur looked over his shoulder, to the outside. The view was spectacular. It showed the wood in all its glory. Fallen tree trunks, sticks all over the place, little animals rushing about and most importantly, the trees themselves. “Got any nice clothes?” he asked, still gaping out the window.

“Is there something interesting about that window?” Merlin wondered while he approached Arthur.

“It’s pleasant to see a slice of old in all the new.”

“Why do you think I live here?” Merlin looked to Arthur with eyes as old as time itself.

Arthur brought his attention back to Merlin, rather than the window. “You live here because you didn’t want to forget where you came from…”

“Can’t keep any secrets from you.”

Arthur felt something strike in his stomach. Like butterflies had manifested then flew upwards. He grimaced and frowned. “Only because I was watching…” He shook his head. “You kept plenty from me, in times gone by…”

“And you know exactly why.”

Arthur glanced to the ground, he sighed deeply, feeling any energy leave him. “I’m sorry that you couldn’t be open with me.”

“Fear is what controls us, in the end.”

Arthur winced at the statement. “All those times, when you admitted and I couldn’t possibly believe it. You’re a good liar when it comes down to it.”

“There’s a difference between lying and concealing the truth.”

“Some would say that they’re the same.”

“But they aren’t. I never truly lied, to you, I just didn’t tell you everything.” Merlin looked to Arthur with eyes full of a unique kind of sorrow.

“We would have made a good team, with my strength and your magic.”

“We were still a good team, back then.”

Arthur smiled, unconditionally. “We were, we really were.”

“Come on, let’s get into some, _nice_ , clothes.”

“Mocking me now?”

“Always, when the moment arises.”

It wasn’t long before the two were walking along the country roads, making their way to the village. Merlin had managed to persuade Arthur to put on some jeans, even though Arthur persisted that they’d never fit. However, they fit incredibly well, to Arthur’s surprise. They both wore some decent shirts. Arthur had chosen a flannel shirt, going on and on about how he wanted to wear it the moment Merlin bought it. Whilst Merlin was just wearing a blue t-shirt.

“We should get a car,” Arthur declared.

“I am not having anything which ties us to the grid like that. Do you know how much I have to change just so the gas, electricity and water companies don’t get suspicious? Not to mention my bank.”

“I’m guessing a lot?”

“I have to create descendants!” Merlin exclaimed, a little too loudly.

“That’s bothersome.”

“You have no idea…”

“Horses then?”

“…That could work.”

“You have a lot of land, we could build stables. We could have a bit of a farm too!”

“Why a farm?”

Arthur shrugged, grinning. “It was a dream of mine, to leave Camelot and become a farmer. I told Guinevere that I wanted to take you with me, so you could do all the work. But really, I couldn’t imagine not having you by my side.”

Merlin gasped, sarcastically. “Were you really _that_ blinded by love?”

Arthur’s smile widened. “More than you know.”

“Useless.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that.”

“…Hilarious.”

Arthur chuckled while Merlin just glared, with an all-consuming smile on his face.

“How far is it to the pub?”

Merlin squinted at the road ahead. “Just up this road.”

“I’ll race you.”

“Oh… my god. Really?”

“Yes,” Arthur said as he was already in a jogging motion.

Merlin shot him a glance. “Three… Two… One…”

Then they both sprinted off without the need for the word ‘Go’, as they were both sly cheaters anyway. Or completely in sync. Take your pick.

The air rushed passed them like no tomorrow. Running, like this, without danger or death hanging over them, made them feel free. For once. They were free. Free from destiny even. There was nothing left but to live by each other’s side. And so, running together, so freely, was the most liberating part of any day.

It got to a point where the pub was in their line of sight and they were neck and neck. Running side by side. Their breaths becoming more frantic as they approached their finish line. As the country road dispersed into a much wider road, the two ran onto the path, almost at their destination. With a little extra sprint, they ran parallel to the pub. Merlin grabbed a lamppost stopping himself and Arthur slowly came to a stop.

Completely out of breath, Arthur gradually sat on the ground while Merlin leant on the lamppost. Both were hyperventilating, hoping to repay the oxygen debt they had just created for themselves.

“I… It was a draw,” Merlin announced.

“Yes- Yes, it was,” Arthur agreed with no protest. He looked towards the clearly old country pub. Parts of the stone were painted white and a sign was attached to the wall, needing to be renewed but wasn’t, due to the history.

“Oh, I recognise this pub,” Arthur said as his face cooled down from its red colouring. “This is the one where you fought with that guy who looked a bit like-”

“Leon,” they both said at once.

Arthur smiled. “Good, glad you thought the same.”

Merlin chuckled. “Though, Leon would never have fought me.” He pushed himself off the lamppost, staggering towards Arthur, with cramped up legs.

“He never had a reason to.” Arthur smiled, looking to the pub. “Why this one? You usually go to the village nearer your cottage.”

“Remember when I came here in the 1600s? All the time?”

“…That was this pub?” Arthur pondered as Merlin pulled him up from the ground.

“Yes…”

Arthur’s eyes traced over the building. “It’s changed a lot.”

“Yeah but do you remember what I did once, when I was drunk?”

Arthur giggled to himself. “You carved my name and yours into the bar, with magic. You were so drunk, I remember well.”

“I believe it’s still here. I haven’t checked in a while.”

“Let’s check then.”

The two haphazardly walked into the pub, with legs surely full of lactic acid. All they needed was a sit down and rest but instead they walked through the door leading to the bar side rather than the restaurant side. They ambled up to the bar, clearly old and beaten with time. Merlin caught the attention of the bartender.

“Is this the original bar?” Merlin asked, sweeping his hand along it.

“Yes, it’s been here since the start. Dunno how it’s survived the climate to be honest.”

Merlin nodded and smiled. “Thanks for the help.”

The bartender watched, confused, as Merlin grabbed Arthur’s hand, leading him around the corner to the other side of the bar. They came to a stop just before the end, where the last barstool sat. Merlin brushed his hand over the wood, stopping when he felt an indentation.

“Here,” he said, guiding Arthur’s hand to it.

“You can barely see it anymore.”

Merlin smirked. “I can fix that.” And without uttering another word, Merlin looked to where the carving was, his eyes sparkled with gold.

Arthur lifted his hand, revealing a much deeper carving. It still looked as if it had been there for years but had more definition to it. The carving itself was Arthur’s name crossing over Merlin’s, diagonally.

“Some say that’s been there since the pub was built,” a woman said as she came up to the two, on the other side of the bar.

“What’s the story?” Arthur asked, wondering what the tales were.

“Apparently, this boy carved it in the 1600s. But notice the names, ‘Merlin’ and ‘Arthur’. Bizarre, innit? You would think it was just someone being stupid, or something new but there’s pictures of this bar throughout the last century with that carving there. There’s even a portrait of the bar and it’s in there too. Some say it’s supposed to show love, others say it’s supposed to show hate.” She shrugged. “Guess we’ll never know.”

“Shame… Things like that are a part of history. They should be known,” Arthur commented, glancing at Merlin.

“Some things are better left to myth.” She looked Merlin and Arthur up and down. “Here for a drink?”

“We’re here to eat, actually,” Merlin said.

“Then pop through that door and get a table. You can’t beat our food.” She grinned with a sincere look on her face.

Before long they were seated by a window – overlooking a vast field – and a young woman moseyed her way over to them, a notepad in one hand, a pen in the other.

“What drinks can I get you?” she asked with that typical customer service voice that was entirely see through and as clear as day.

“Can I get some… red wín? Wín? What is it called…?” Arthur attempted, asking Merlin for assistance.

“Wine.” Merlin said, staring at Arthur with a raised eyebrow. He glanced up to the woman. “Can we get one glass of your finest red wine and a glass of water, please?”

“Certainly.” She looked to Arthur, with parted lips, a question ready to pounce. “…May I ask, what language is that? I’m studying historical linguistics and that sounded like a type of Old English.”

“It was Welsh,” Merlin cut in before Arthur could dream of speaking.

She shook her head, dismissively. “No, it isn’t. I know Welsh, that isn’t Welsh.”

“You’re right, it’s a type of Old English,” Arthur said, to which Merlin glared, unsure.

“Really…? Why on earth do you speak it?”

Arthur looked to Merlin with an expression of, ‘I’ve got this, don’t worry’. “There’s an isolated village in… Scotland that still speaks it.”

The poor girl furrowed her brow, with such confusion. “…I’ve never heard of that.”

“Few know about it.” Arthur pressed his lips into a thin line, waiting for a response.

After a moment of thought, she laughed, chuckled and even snorted. “Oh my god, you almost got me there! I’m guessing you research old languages then?” she questioned, with fervour in her tone and no longer disbelieve.

Arthur stared for a second, wondering how the hell he got away with it. “Yes… I do indeed.”

“Nice. I don’t meet many people with the same interest.” She smiled and darted off, to put their order in.

“Smooth…” Merlin said. “Of course, that was as smooth as badger’s arse.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes, his mouth gaped as he tried to find words. “I’m guessing that isn’t smooth.”

“Not according to the phrase.”

“I tried my best,” Arthur assured.

“I know. It’s going to take a while for you to get used to English.”

Arthur crossed his arms, his eyebrows flung upwards. “I am used to it, I only forgot the word _wine_.”

“Did you not look at the menu?” Merlin gestured with his eyebrows, to the middle of the table.

Arthur started at the collection of menus that sat between the salt and pepper. “There’s a… wine menu? Just for wine? That seems excessive.”

Merlin turned his attention to his own menu. “You don’t just get given wine these days.”

“Should have spent less time watching you and more time looking at the surroundings.” Arthur picked up his menu, hiding a grin with it.

“Well, which was the better view?” Merlin wondered, with a smug look painted on his face.

“You… until the 1700s.”

“Is that when I used the ageing spell?”

Arthur lowered his menu. He looked to Merlin like he had just spent three consecutive days in the tavern. “You forgot?”

“Been a long time.”

“Yes, the 1700s is when you aged yourself.” Arthur dipped his eyesight, to the perfectly varnished table.

“And you _still_ didn’t pay attention to the surroundings?”

“It got boring after a few months, or years. Anyhow, you have nice eyes…”

“You never failed to recognise them. Even when I was Dragoon and Dolma.”

“Dolma was definitely your weirdest disguise.”

“Dolma was my **best** disguise.”

“You were dedicated, no doubt.”

“Only for you…” Merlin looked to Arthur with eyes so full of love and affection.

“And that’s the point of soulmates.” Arthur smirked but that folded into grin which further folded into the softest look anyone could ever give.

“I enjoy being the only true soulmates.”

“In which not even the laws of the world can tear us apart.”

“Nicely put.”

“Didn’t want to mention that, _word_ , again.”

Merlin nodded and looked back to the menu. “…I did bring you here for a special reason, you know.”

“Oh?”

“Look at the chicken section.”

Arthur picked his menu back up and glanced over the small section. The prices were quite low, except for one dish that was far more expensive in comparison. “Herb crusted capon? Really? They still have that?”

“Of course they do.”

“What will you have?”

“Depends what the soup of the day is.”

“And what’s it today?”

Merlin located the blackboard at the end of the room and surveyed it. “It’s… pea soup.”

“Pee, in soup? How disgusting.” Arthur smirked, with a chuckle hiding in his throat.

A smile sprung to Merlin’s lips, uncontrollably. Perhaps that would become a regular occurrence. “Your humour is degrading.”

“No. My humour is _improving_. But I can see how you could get easily confused.”

“The moment you make a joke about peas like that, is the moment humour dies… in a fire.”

“And then it’s reborn, like a Phoenix.”

“Are you ready to order?” the girl interrupted.

Merlin and Arthur swiftly looked to the waiter, slightly shocked at the disruption. She stared at them for a moment, her eyes darting back and forth.

“Uh… Are you ready to order?” she asked, again, with narrowed eyes.

Merlin was the first to snap out of the sudden shock. “Um, yes. Yes- We’re ready.” He glanced at Arthur which caused him to also snap the hell out of it. “I’ll have… the soup please.”

She scribbled it down while Merlin gave Arthur another look.

“Do you want white or brown bread?”

“White, please.”

She turned to Arthur, giving him a look of, ‘and what do you want?’.

“I’ll have the herb crusted capon, please.”

“There’s few who go for that. Some say it’s fit for a king.” She smiled and retrieved the menus from the two of them and dashed away.

“Fit for a King,” Arthur repeated, raising his eyebrows.

“It’s not fit for the waist though.” Merlin flicked Arthur a look and grinned, smugly.

“I-” Arthur rolled his eyes and gently kicked Merlin’s foot.

“Hey! It’s the truth!” Merlin softly kicked back which sparked a brief and somewhat childish war.

“Do you want me to bring training sessions back?” Arthur glared with such seriousness.

Merlin scowled at Arthur, with eyes of fear and ‘not on your bloody life’. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Ohh… I would.”

“Fine… You’re not fat and never will be…?” Merlin narrowed his eyes and smirked.

“I’ll accept that as an apology.”

“Prat.”

“Arse.”

They shared a grin and a chuckle and, in fact, all forms of joy and happiness. It wasn’t awfully long until they had their meals in front of them and their drinks by their side.

“What was it like, to just watch?” Merlin asked as he spooned a bunch of soup into his mouth, almost burning the roof of his mouth off.

Arthur looked up from his meal and steepled his fingers. “…It was like one of those moving picture things.”

Merlin knitted his brow. “A movie?”

“Yes! Because I could watch but I couldn’t get involved.”

“Did you want to get involved?”

“Yes and no. I wanted to protect you, I felt that need but at the same time, the world was vile.”

“It was truly bad at some points. Especially when magic was forgotten and being gay or otherwise became a crime.”

“Seems I came back at a nicer time.”

“It’s not perfect but it’s better than it ever was.”

“And at least… there’s nothing stopping us- from being together.”

Merlin smiled. “Nothing at all.”

By the time the two were walking home, the evening was fully setting in. And by that, I mean, the sun had set and there was little light to guide the two back. The best they had were car headlights and the moon. Other than that, they were on their own. Luckily for them, like the night before, Merlin knew the area like the back of his hand, so going home wasn’t as hard as it seemed.

“What about an apple farm? We can make jam and sell the apples,” Arthur said, full of enthusiasm as they were approaching the house.

“Apples, really?”

Arthur shrugged. “They’re your favourite fruit and… a fruit farm sounds nice.”

“How-”

“I’ve watched you for fifteen centuries, you eat apples as if they have gone out of fashion. You’re almost as bad as Gwaine was.”

Merlin raised his eyebrows, smiling. “Gwaine and apples was a one of a kind combination.”

“And that’s putting it lightly.” Arthur smirked, after which he took to stroking his chin. “Do you have a favourite kind?”

“Old Pearmain. They can only trace it back to the thirteenth century but trust me, those were my favourites back in Camelot.”

“We’ll grow them then.” Arthur smiled. “What’s your second favourite?”

“Uhh.” Merlin tilted his head towards the starry sky, in thought. “Cox’s Orange Pippin.”

“Another old one?”

“Not as old. 1800s.”

Arthur stared into space as words rolled off his tongue. “One day we’ll have an apple farm dedicated to those apples. With stables at another end, with two beautiful horses.”

“You’re such a dreamer.”

Merlin gently pushed Arthur, knocking him sideways. To which Arthur pushed Merlin back and the two continued this ritual until they sprinted off… towards the door to the weirdest and most fabulous cottage to ever exist. They slammed up against it, in yet another draw.

Once inside, the two collapsed to the floor laughing their heads off. While Merlin was still catching his breath, staring at the ceiling, Arthur crawled over and sat beside him, gazing at him.

“I love you, you know?”

Merlin smiled, his eyes conveyed a thousand words. “I know it with every fibre of my being… I love you too.”

Merlin sat up and the two just stared. Gazing into each other’s eyes, their souls and staring at each other’s lips. Until Arthur shuffled closer and took Merlin’s face into his hands and just… kissed him. Their eyes squeezed shut, entirely desperate. They had waited so long for this, so long. The feeling of their lips against one another’s caused the impulses buzzing around inside to be like electricity running through them. Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur, pulling him in closer. And the kissing progressed to a more passionate, open mouthed affair. Yet, their warm breaths were full of the taste of the earlier meals. Which was half a delight and half hell but the feeling brought comfort to the two of them. It helped to remind them that this was real and was happening, at long last.

The two parted, slowly, and Arthur set his forehead upon Merlin’s. Both drew in heavy breaths, from the intensity of it all. The way it made their minds clouded but at peace. Overwhelmed yet soothed. It was a moment of desperation and fifteen centuries would do that, nevertheless, it was a moment full of love.

Arthur took Merlin’s hand and stood up, pulling him up with him. Merlin tilted his head, confused at the gesture. Though, any confusion dissipated as Arthur guided Merlin to the stairs.

And up the stairs they went.


	2. Flowering Trees

By the time morning rolled around, the house was still and quiet. Ok, except for Arthur’s snores but that could hardly be avoided. Clothes were strewn across the room and light began to peak through the windows. And with morning becoming clear, the birds woke up. Creating songs that floated through the air and acted as a natural alarm clock.

As for Merlin and Arthur, the two of them were tangled around each other, cuddling into one another. And if you were to listen in closely, their breathing matched. And if you had two spare stethoscopes to hand, you’d know their heartbeats were entirely in sync. Beating calmly.

It truly showed they were alive. Alive and together.

And then the birds increased their volume as they landed on the roof. Of course, a house as old as that was bound to have holes and was bound to let in the noise of the world.

“Make them shut up, Merlin,” Arthur groaned, clearly still half asleep as his voice was low and quiet.

Merlin stirred awake. “What…?”

“The birds…”

“Let them be.”

“Fine…”

Without so much as a minute passing, Arthur was back to sleep while Merlin was left to lie somewhat awake as the birds became ever louder. Not to mention, Arthur’s snoring. Sleep would surely become a thing of the past for him.

As midday encroached, the two were in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. Or more, Arthur was sitting at the dining table watching Merlin fry some bacon. And he was eager, because Merlin was making a sandwich and Arthur had wanted to try such a thing for centuries, especially a bacon butty.

“Who knew, someone as perfect as you, could snore so much,” Merlin said as he poured the bacon onto some kitchen roll.

Arthur pulled his eyebrows together, his nose crinkled. “I don’t snore.”

“You know you do.” Merlin grinned. “But somehow, it’s worse now.”

Arthur shrugged, with one shoulder. “Maybe you forgot how bad it was.”

“I probably did,” Merlin admitted as he shoved the bacon between slices of bread.

Arthur gave the table and chairs a quick inspection, his eyes scrutinised them. “…These are the original chairs from Camelot, right?”

“Yes.” Merlin handed a plate to Arthur and sat beside him, with his own plate in his hands.

Arthur faced him, a question surely hung in his throat. “You never found anything?”

Merlin – who was about to take a bite of his sandwich – furrowed his brow. “No… Was there anything to find?”

Arthur leapt from his chair and walked over to a completely different chair. He ducked under the table and fumbled around underneath. He brushed his hands over the legs until he found a slit. Carefully, he pulled something out. A bunch of paper. A whole lot of thin paper that had been folded. He stood up, with the pieces of paper firmly in his hands.

“…What are those?” Merlin wondered.

“I had forgotten I wrote these…” Arthur stared at the letters with a glazed look. “They’re for you. I always intended- but I never- I was a coward.”

“Arthur…?” Merlin uttered, with concern in his voice.

Arthur returned to his chair and placed the letters beside Merlin, pushing them towards him. “You should read them…”

“Now?”

“If you want.”

Merlin shoved the plate out of his way and took the letters into his hands. There were at least thirty. Much more than thirty. He took the top one and unfolded it while Arthur watched, intently.

Merlin skimmed the first few words and tears automatically collected at the bottom of his eyes.

_‘Dear Merlin,_

_God, I’m a coward. You’re special to me, more than I can express and more than I can admit. I know it may not seem like it but I want you to know, I love you._

_You may never read this and may never know how I feel but I do love you. I couldn’t love anyone as much as I love you. I could never lose you, I can’t imagine life without you._

_I know there have been times, where it seems like you may feel the same but nothing is certain. And if you do feel the same, I’m sorry I couldn’t be braver._

_Yours,  
Arthur’_

Merlin placed his hand over Arthur’s and almost immediately, their fingers intertwined. Merlin could feel Arthur suddenly relax. Like he had been holding his breath. In Camelot, this was as close as he got to confessing his feelings. The letters were his best kept secret. His unspoken words, written down, centuries before. This was letting Merlin into his last closed off section, his very soul.

 “Arthur… this is- so- sweet.”

“They got worse… as the years passed.”

Merlin stared at the tremendous pile. “When did you start these?”

“Almost as soon as I knew how I felt about you. I had to write it down.”

Merlin stroked the back of Arthur’s hand with his thumb. “Which is the… best one?”

Arthur reached for the papers, bringing them to him. He flicked through the pile and pulled one piece out, handing it to Merlin.

_‘Dear Merlin,_

_I may be married now but don’t think that I don’t love you._

_When we were in those tunnels and you wanted to go back… I almost kissed you. I almost did. God forbid, I don’t know what I was thinking. What would have people thought? We all know these things happen as a comfort in armies, with the knights._

_But what I feel for you. It’s deeper. Much deeper. It’s the purest love, I know it. I want to see you happy, Merlin. You deserve someone who can express their love for you._

_Trust me, Merlin, I would die for you, if it meant you could live forever._

_Yours,  
Arthur’_

“I…” Merlin uttered but couldn’t squeeze the sentence out. He looked to Arthur, who had tears rolling down his cheeks. Falling off his chin. Just because he had read that last sentence. And Merlin, he was crying too. They were both crying, over letters of love, while holding hands and being close.

“It’s like I _knew_.” Arthur brushed a few tears away, smiling through the sadness.

“Living forever isn’t always a good thing,” Merlin almost whispered, his eyes finally showing how old they were. How full they were of the loneliness he had endured.

Arthur released his hand from the hold and wiped Merlin’s tears away. His touch was tender and soft, he wished to remove any sadness the moment brought. “Maybe it’s better with someone by your side.”

“Especially someone you’re destined to be with.” Merlin gave a half-smile, then frowned.

“Beyond doubt.”

Arthur leant over and kissed Merlin’s cheek, kissing away the tears in little movements. Merlin leaned into the tenderness of the small kisses, taking in the warmth, the feel. His eyes softly closed, dispelling the centuries of solitude.

Arthur sat back down, in his chair. “I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I first saw you cry.”

“You have a strange sense of comfort.” Merlin smiled this time, though, sadness still consumed him.

“It’s better than my other forms of comfort.”

Merlin look to the ceiling, casting his mind back. “Oh… Yeah- It is.”

Arthur grabbed his – now cold – bacon sandwich and took a large bite. He proceeded to push himself up from his chair and inched towards the door. “We have work to do.”

“Like what?” Merlin questioned.

“Like… the stables. Horses!”

“…You, working? This is a miracle.”

“I know.” Arthur gave Merlin a smug look and darted out of the kitchen.

As time rushed by, wood was ordered, fences were built and designs were completed. Arthur worked the hardest he ever had, even enjoying it, welcoming the feeling of normal. The feeling of no one knowing who he was. And Merlin would – most of the time – sit on a deckchair, watching Arthur putting the stables together bit by bit. Even through the winter months, Arthur was adamant that he was going to put it all together, on his own. With the occasional help from Merlin’s magic.

And after some trouble with electricity and gas companies, in early March, Arthur managed to persuade Merlin to go completely off the grid. With the reason that it would keep them safe and out of prison. Soon, it seemed all records of the house ever existing were destroyed and Merlin had built a pond, to bring them the water they needed. With the help of some spells along the way. Candles dominated the house and fire once more became prevalent for all sorts.

By the time late March came crashing in, the stable was taking shape. Only the stable doors and the roof needed to built. And with the weather getting far warmer, Arthur felt compelled to work as hard as he could.

“You know, all this makes life harder?” Merlin said, lying back on his deckchair. “Being off the grid like this…”

Arthur was nailing bits of wood together, he raised his head from his activity and looked to the fully relaxed Merlin. “I know… But we lived in worse times. And I’m not suggesting you close your… multiple bank accounts. We need money but we can survive without electricity or gas or water pipes.”

“Mainly because of my magic,” Merlin protested, crossing his arms.

“If it wasn’t for your magic, I never would have suggested this. But times are getting harsher, people are suspicious of everyone. What do you think would happen if the government found out the truth about us?”

“…Good point.”

Arthur went back to his task, in which the wood he was putting together, was forming one of the doors.

“I got away with it in the past,” Merlin mentioned.

“If _I_ understand that things are different now, you should too. We have to be careful. People will come to know us, in the villages. What will they think when they realise we never age…?”

“We still don’t know that about _you_.”

“I still don’t believe the Sidhe had a reason to lie.” Arthur sighed. “If you’re worried, can’t you check?”

“…No.” Merlin, unconsciously, fidgeted with his hands and shrugged half-heartedly.

Arthur observed as Merlin’s demeanour changed. “Well that’s a lie.”

Merlin shook his head. “No, it wasn’t.”

“I watched-”

“You watched me for fifteen centuries so you know when I lie?”

Arthur put the hammer down, picking the now finished door up. “Yes, and I’m your boyfriend. I know these things.”

Merlin sat up. “I can look at the future but it’s dangerous… Things didn’t go well the last time I did that.”

“Then we’ll just have to wait and see,” Arthur declared as he positioned the door, in order to fix it in place.

“I hate waiting,” Merlin groaned, flopping back on his deckchair.

“We all do.” Arthur stepped aside. “How does it look?”

“Looks fine.”

Arthur glanced to Merlin. “You aren’t looking.”

Merlin mumbled some kind of complaint and examined the door. “It’s nice.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows, his eyes filled with concern. “Are you alright?”

Merlin bolted back up. “I’m scared… I don’t want to lose you.” His eyesight collapsed to the ground, his shoulders slumped. It was as if his muscles just stopped working.

“I’m not planning on going anywhere anytime soon.” Arthur approached Merlin, he crouched down by the deckchair. “It’s not like there’s bandits or people trying to assassinate me anymore. No one knows who I am, or who you are. We’re safe. We can live whatever life we want. We’ll be alright, Merlin.”

Merlin bit his bottom lip as he tried to prevent tears. “How can you be so sure?”

Arthur smiled, reassuringly. “Because we’re here, together. And when we’re together, nothing can go wrong.”

Merlin looked to Arthur. “Plenty did.”

Arthur paused for a few moments. He diverted his eyes away before transferring his gaze back to Merlin, with such softness. “Just- believe what I say. It’ll make our time easier.”

Merlin smiled and nodded lightly. Trying to agree, hesitantly. Arthur pulled him into a hug and the two latched on as if they could lose each other at any moment. Merlin buried his head into Arthur’s hair, the smell bringing comfort to him. And Arthur closed his eyes, trying to prevent his own tears from escaping. Even though it had been months, plenty of months, being close reminded them it was real. That it wasn’t some sort of messed up dream.

The air was different. Not because of something strange. No. It was the heat of April and the sun showers it liked to bring. The wood lay still, the birds sang songs and horses galloped. Two horses, one brown and one grey. They were so at peace, along with their riders. Things were better, some issues had been talked through and light could be seen at the end of the tunnel.

Arthur coming back was just the first step. And now they were several steps forward. Working out what it meant, for them. What truth lay in the vague prophecies and what life would bring in this different world. Where the time they had lived in, was just a legend. Nothing more than stories, some fantasy bored people made up. They knew the truth and it didn’t matter if other people didn’t. And it was safer that way. Exploitation was ripe in this world, quite similar to their own time, but it was far more weaponised and dangerous.

What they had, in their hidden house, in their one acre of land, was a life they could have only wished for in the past. It was a life Arthur had dreamt of, time and time again. The prospect of not being this king with the lives of many hanging over his leadership. But instead, having his destined one by his side, living a normal and fulfilling life. In the end, all that mattered was being together. Always.

The two came to a sudden stop as they approached the house. Their horses taking a well-deserved break. They looked onwards, smiling.

“You were slow today,” Merlin mentioned.

“Wanted to… what’s the phrase?” Arthur paused for a moment, furrowing his brow. “Uh… Oh. I wanted to stop and smell the roses.”

“Taking in the sights?”

“That branch you snapped the other week is, undeniably, going to be a tourist destination.” Arthur indicated, with his head, to a branch that lay to the right of them.

Merlin shrugged. “I keep telling you, this should be a heritage site.”

“Imagine…” Arthur tried his best to imitate an ultra-posh accent he had heard from many people over the centuries. “And here, may I introduce, The Branch of Odin.”

Merlin choked on air. “Odin?”

“Do not interrupt the tour. The Branch of Odin was ripped from its tree when a bitter man wished to ride slightly too fast. The branch was removed, without mercy, as his shoulder smacked into it. The Odin tree has stood for many years, in its territory, but this attack would certainly disrupt the peace.”

“Why Odin?”

“First name I thought of.”

“Why…?”

“Just… stuff that’s been on my mind lately.”

Merlin looked to Arthur with sympathetic eyes. “A penny for your thoughts.”

Arthur scratched his forehead, lightly. “Only, my regrets. About how I dealt with… things.”

“You did what you thought was right.”

“It wasn’t always what I thought. It was how I was guided… What I thought I _had_ to do.”

“I hope my advice was never a burden.”

Arthur swiftly looked to Merlin, his expression told all. “Your advice mattered more to me than what anyone else had to say.”

“You didn’t believe me all the time.”

“To be fair, it was hard to. You couldn’t tell me how you knew your information… I sometimes imagine that if I knew about your magic, then I would have listened to you and-”

“You wish you had lived your life, back then,” Merlin cut in, his voice was low and brittle.

“In some ways, I do… In others, I don’t. Being with you is better than anything Camelot had to offer.”

Merlin’s mouth hung open, his eyes darted to the ground, then settled for a loving gaze at Arthur. “…Really?”

“Merlin, all of this, is all I ever desired. To be free, to have you by my side, to be with you.”

“That’s... good to know.”

“You already knew.”

“The reassurance is good.”

Arthur smiled. “You’re so…” He trailed off as his eyes traced Merlin, looking adoringly at every beautiful feature.

“I’m what?” Merlin asked with a chuckle.

“Perfect. In every way.”

Merlin smiled, full of life. “Ok, if I’m perfect… then I’ll win in a race back to the stables.”

Arthur smirked. “Three…”

And they both gently kicked their horses, both cheating, in sync. They galloped off, racing to their destination, which was both near and far. They still had to traverse the rest of the wood but from there, it was a clear path.

As they guided their horses down the less cluttered trails, they glanced over to one another. And the glances only brought looks of determination. Merlin dared to make his horse go faster but as soon as he saw it straining, he lowered his speed. Which led to Arthur catching up with him and they were right by each other, neck and neck once again.  

At this point, the trees were behind them and they were in the field. To the left, not that far into the field, lay the stables. The stables that Arthur had slaved over for months. All completed, with a nice finish.

The two were still neck and neck only a few metres away until, Arthur slowed down just a tad, letting Merlin win.

“Ok… Why did you do that?” Merlin asked as he circled back around.

“What? I didn’t do anything. You’re perfect, so you won.”

“No… we always draw, you let me win, I saw you.”

“It’s not my fault that you’re perfect and won the race.” Arthur smirked and hopped off his horse, giving it a stroke and praising it for its effort.

“Sometimes you’re a clotpole.” Merlin got down from his horse, also giving it a rub and praise.

“I thought I was permanently a clotpole? If its definition is dollophead and _its_ definition is me, then I should be a clotpole at all times.”

“…Don’t use logic with _my_ words.”

Arthur giggled to himself and gazed at Merlin, who was loosening some of the straps. He proceeded to look at Merlin’s horse and a grin settled on his lips. “I still can’t believe you called your horse Hnæ. You actually called it neighing.”

Merlin glanced at Arthur, almost glaring. “At least mine doesn’t bear the name Perwaine.”

“That name is to honour them.”

Merlin just gave Arthur a look. A look of being utterly amazed and suspicious. “I know everyone made jokes out of it but… did you know something?”

“Are you asking if they were together?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. They were. I gave them a day off once, to let them spend time together. They were embarrassed that I knew, but I reassured them it was fine.”

Merlin smiled. “That was nice of you.”

Arthur stared into the distance as he recalled those days. “I put them at ease when I told them how I felt about you. They understood then, why I was accepting.” Arthur looked back to Merlin. “You know well that people like us stay together.”

“Yeah, I do.” He nodded lightly, in agreement and after a second or two, he half-smiled. “How did you know…?”

Arthur turned to his horse, rubbing its neck. “Some things are best left unsaid.”

Merlin’s jaw dropped. “You saw them, didn’t you?”

“I mean…”

“You so did!”

“…Maybe.”

“So, you saw them and had to… escape the situation?”

“I walked into a room, saw them kissing, and left almost immediately.”

“So they didn’t know at the time but eventually they knew that you knew and must have known you knew because you had seen them…?”

“You said that in the most complicated way, but yes.”

 Merlin shrugged as he gave his horse a little pat. “It was for the effect.”

Arthur smiled and guided his horse into one of the stables and got to sorting good ol’ Perwaine out. Merlin did the same for the beautiful Hnæ. After they had sorted their horses and refreshed their supplies, Merlin and Arthur took to the field. In which Merlin watched from the stables.

The rest of the land, that wasn’t for the horses and was fenced off, was mainly soil. Arthur happened to be preparing it, digging holes that were inches deep. Most of the field had already been done, this was only the last little bit. Then the afternoon came out of nowhere and Arthur was suddenly finished. He had worked hard on the field all day and his arduous work, was about to pay off.

Arthur approached Merlin, who was leaning up against the stables, reading a book. A book about what? About apples and fruit and spells to do with that sort of thing.

“Are you ready for this?” Arthur asked, looking at the book Merlin was reading.

Merlin glanced up. “Yes… I was only double checking.”

Arthur smiled while Merlin put his book down and stood up. He faced the empty field and outstretched his hands, he relaxed his shoulders and calmed his breathing.

“ _Bléd ældu milscapuldora_.”

Merlin’s eyes washed over with the gold, gleaming, and then it immediately faded away. The lonely soil, soon, had shoots spurting up from it, where Arthur had dug the holes. The shoots developed into thicker stems, which grew upwards until they transformed into what more closely resembled bark. After those initial seconds, the hardened stems plumped up into trunks and leaves extended out into a multitude of branches. Upon the branches, leaves and flowers appeared and as the trees blossomed, the flowers dwindled away and the apples grew. From small little balls to their fully-grown selves.

The Old Pearmain was an average size, with green-yellow streaked skin and red blushing through. While the Cox’s Orange Pippin had this delightful orange yet red hue to them.

Both Merlin and Arthur grinned at the new and improved field. One that was now covered in trees but no more than around fifty. Merlin folded his arms, his eyes traced over his work and his grin only widened.

“You’re doing the majority of the work,” Merlin asserted.

“It will be my pleasure.” Arthur smirked. “Now, dearest, if you will.” He offered his hand as if he was escorting a fair lady.

Merlin stared at the sight. “You do know I can take you apart in… What was it? Less than one blow.”

“Oh… I know you can,” Arthur said in a slightly flirtatious tone. He extended his hand further. “Please, my love.”

Merlin rolled his eyes and placed his hand in Arthur’s. To which Arthur smiled more than what was needed. They walked down, to the apple trees or more, Arthur escorted Merlin to their magical produce. They came up to the gate which guarded the entrance to this small orchard.

“Which side is which?” Arthur wondered.

“Pearmain on the left, Cox’s on the right.”

Arthur swung the gate open and escorted Merlin to the left. He broke his hold, walked up to the first tree and picked a flawlessly ripe apple. All of them were outstanding, more than they should have been. But then, that’s magic for you.

He turned to Merlin and handed him the apple, a huge smile on his face. “I believe this is your product.”

Merlin shook his head, a smile fondly on his lips. He took the apple and observed it, checking it over.

“And has the magic crafted it well?”

“Reminds me of how they used to be, back in Camelot.” Merlin smiled and proceeded to take a bite. It revealed a juicy yellowish flesh and as Merlin swallowed the piece of apple, he grinned.

“Never tasted a Pearmain so sweet.”

“So… today we’ve learnt magic can bring back old apples and make them taste better than ever?”

Merlin chuckled, his eyes gave Arthur a special, ‘I hate you but love you’ look. “Yes,” he agreed.

“Something to keep in mind.” Arthur sighed, almost groaning. “Right, I have to go get all the baskets. Will you be ready when I get back?”

“I know what I’m doing.”

As the evening began to show its colours, via the sky, Arthur had just finished up putting baskets under all the trees. He returned to Merlin’s side and folded his arms over his chest, ready to oversee the next steps.

“How many apples will we have?” Arthur wondered.

“Too many. I’ll preserve them but we should use them basket by basket.”

Arthur nodded, almost grimacing at the prospect of too many apples. “Just do it.”

Merlin focused on the trees, stretching his arms and palms out. “ _Ic bebíede þe dreópian þín æppela, eac hyldu, into_ _þæm_ _cawlas_.”

As the gold rushed over his eyes, the magic began its course. The apples dropped off the trees but fell in a slow, gentle, movement. For each tree, the apples guided themselves to the basket beside it, lowering into it. None were bruised or damaged from such a feat and all were still in perfect condition. Not a scratch on them.

Merlin waited a moment as he allowed the last of the apples to land. “ _Blóstma_.”

The two of them watched as the leaves on the trees wilted away and instead were replaced by little white flowers, blossom. The trees transformed from a summer state, reverting back to their spring state, in only a few seconds. Now, they looked how they should for this time of year.

Merlin breathed in calmly, getting ready for one of the last spells he needed. “ _Ic bebíede ymbe gefédan on wolcnum weorþmynde þah._ ”

Out of what seemed like thin air, a large swarm of bees appeared. They took to the blossom on the trees, the flowers. And they began pollinating. Landing on the flowers and extracting the nectar. This step was more an insurance, making sure the trees were in tip top condition, in order to get a good harvest in the autumn.

With teamwork and the help of magic, Merlin and Arthur transferred all fifty baskets into a shed. A shed that Arthur had built in the time between finishing the stables and this event. Out of boredom, mainly. And happened on impulse as one day, nothing was in that particular spot and the next, lay a shed. It would be sure to keep the apples well, as it hid under the cover of the trees, ensuring no sun could disturb it.

As Arthur placed the last basket down, he backed out of the shed. The crisp fresh air of the evening was welcoming to his lungs, as the intense exercise of the day overwhelmed him. The baskets were hardly light and were especially annoying after carrying at least twenty-five. He was almost convinced that Merlin enjoyed letting him do all the labour-intensive work, and perhaps, he was right about that.

Merlin rubbed his eyes, dispelling any tiredness from them. “ _Áspare þissum æppela_.” His voice seemed flat and quiet. Nonetheless, the apples glowed for a brief second before returning to their previous state. Apparently, they were now preserved, for whenever the two would need them.

The duo were in the master bedroom, aka, their bedroom. Arthur lay back on the bed, hogging all angles. While Merlin was busy putting some pyjamas on.

“What will we do with all the apples?” Arthur asked, his tone full of tired complaining.

Merlin scoffed. “Oh god… I don’t know. Sell them? Make apple pies, apple cakes, apple jams, apple crumbles, apple breads? Anything we can put apple in? Perhaps using some old techniques from our day?”

“Sounds good to me,” Arthur mumbled.

Merlin glared at him. “This was your idea.”

“And my dream and a perfect idea.” Arthur sat up, bringing a smirk along with him. “Just don’t eat too much of the produce.”

Merlin turned away from the wardrobe and moved up to Arthur. “Oh yeah, because I’m going to somehow get through over a thousand apples.” He came to a stop just in front of Arthur and smiled at him.

Arthur shrugged. “It’s been a long day.” He flopped back onto the bed.

“You tired?”

“Yes… and no.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “No?”

“I can’t stop thinking about apples.”

“You better get used to that, since it’ll become our living.”

“Apples,” Arthur murmured as his eyes became heavy. Then, they softly shut and Arthur was almost out for the count.

“Hey!” Merlin prodded Arthur’s stomach. “Get on your own side!” he griped, hands on his hips.

“ _Appples_ ,” Arthur said, almost inaudibly. He slowly pushed himself up, sitting on the bed cross-legged. He patted the space in front of him, inviting Merlin to sit next to him.

“I thought you were tired,” Merlin said as he sat next to Arthur.

“I am but… I’m concerned, about you.” Arthur seemed much more awake now, any humour had been locked away and seriousness resided in his tone.

Merlin furrowed his brow. “Why?”

“You’ve been happy today, I’m not denying that. However, I have noticed you’ve been a bit… out of it at times.”

“I’m fine… I am,” Merlin assured, placing a hand on Arthur’s knee, his eyes sincere.

“You can talk to me, you know?”

“I know…” Merlin sighed. “I’ve been thinking about Excalibur.”

“What about it?”

“That we need it. That _I_ need it.”

Arthur tilted his head. “Why do you need it?” he asked, knowing what Merlin was thinking but wanting him to say it.

Merlin couldn’t help but look away. “It doesn’t matter… Let’s just, go to sleep.”

Arthur frowned with worry. He wanted to press further but everything in Merlin’s tone and expression told him, it wasn’t the right time. Though, in all of this, the right time is nothing but a perception. There is never a right time for anything, not really. There’s just the point when you finally confront it all.

Arthur nodded and with that, the two got up from the bed. With heavy, tired movements they flicked the covers up and slid underneath them. They faced each other as they settled down and Arthur placed his hand on Merlin’s cheek.

Merlin hummed with both delight and extreme tiredness. Gradually, Arthur brushed his hand up until he reached Merlin’s hair. He moved his fingers in small circles and the two of them just lay there like that, for many a minute.

“One day, when you’re ready, tell me what’s bothering you,” Arthur said.

“One day, I promise,” Merlin replied, with such a sadness.

“Good…” Arthur smiled faintly as his mind drifted into a slumber while Merlin only let sleep consume him.

A few days managed to skirt on by and Merlin was out in the stables, tending to the horses. And mucking them out. He brushed them, picked their hooves and let them out, to roam the decently sized field. He sat on the ground and watched them have a little trot about. That was, until, he was interrupted.

“I got the books!” Arthur bellowed, as he appeared beside Merlin.

Merlin looked up to him. “…Let’s start baking then.”

Once in the kitchen, they started out with something simple. A cake. Just a basic cake, nothing special. Flour, sugar, eggs and butter. What could go wrong? Well, everything, apparently. Because by the time the cake was in the oven, there was flour up the walls and egg all over the bench. However, once the cake came out, it wasn’t terribly bad but it wasn’t all that good either.

So, they moved onto to jam. Merlin fetched a few apples and they cooked them down, piling plenty of sugar in. And after they accidently created toffee, they moved onto bread. Which was yet another disaster. As the bread came out of the oven almost burnt and somewhat rubbery, the duo attempted jams once more.

Which resulted in a few decent tasting jams by the end of the afternoon. Their experiments would surely continue, making classics and experimenting with all sorts but ensuring the apple was a main theme and would never be left out. As long as they paid attention to what they put into their mixtures, that is.

The two sat on the sofa, in front of the lit fireplace, just talking, chatting and discussing their future.

“Oh and Betty said we could use the shop next door as long as we pay £300 a month,” Arthur stated.

“That’s cheap.”

“She doesn’t think we’ll attract many customers.”

“It’ll be a bakery once we’re done and we’ll get customers from her shop. It’ll be fine.”

“We can’t cook _that_ well.”

“We can learn and… magic can help.” Merlin winked.

Arthur smirked and pinched his nose. “Gay culture is creating an apple farm and having too many apples to cope.”

Merlin stared at Arthur with a furrowed brow. “How have you discovered memes…?”

“When I went to the library, I met Landra, the waiter from the pub. She showed me lots of, what she called, ‘gay culture’ posts.”

“How did you get into that?”

“I asked her what she was laughing at. I thought she was dying. But it was an artwork, or a comic as she called it, of a gay TV show couple. When I enthused about it and laughed at the joke, she showed me memes.”

“You get yourself into some strange situations.”

“Indeed, I do. But I’m glad, the posts were funny.”

“Were they relatable?”

“Somewhat.”

Merlin raised his eyebrows. “Care to share?”

“One talked about how it’s gay culture to avoid your crush like the plague. I related to that one far too much.”

Merlin leant his head on Arthur’s shoulder. “You are a wonder, Arthur.”

“For discovering memes?”

“Just… the way you’ve handled all of this. These months haven’t exactly been… a good way to ease you into this world.”

“Think of it this way, it’s like watching one of those TV shows and then jumping into that world. You already know a lot about it and you… adapt.”

“I suppose it helps that, this is… what you wanted?” Merlin pondered, almost unsure about if Arthur actually enjoyed this life.

“Yes, it does. I wouldn’t change this for the world. Not even if I had a chance to go back to our time, to Camelot.”

Merlin furrowed his brow, he lifted his head, to get a better look at Arthur. “Really?”

“Really. These months have been some of the best months of my life. Mainly because you’re here and we’re together.”

“You keep surprising me, ever since you came back. …The lack of titles, you working and- you- wanting this.” Merlin gestured to the thin air, waving his hand around. “Wanting all of this.”

“Merlin, I wished for something like this every day. Even before I realised my feelings and especially afterwards. Never doubt that.”

Merlin beamed and placed his head back on Arthur’s shoulder, to which Arthur wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close. The warmth, not only from the fire but from them, was enough to keep them going till the end of time. They sat in silence, observing the fire crackle with all it’s might. And that’s all they needed, this closeness.

“I love you,” Arthur hummed.

Merlin, unconsciously, smiled. “I love you too.”


	3. Two Halves of the Coin

A happy village. A village that wasn’t quite small but wasn’t large either. It was hardly short of pubs and had a couple of tea rooms. Not to mention a small park, a church with a graveyard and plenty of houses. But the more interesting aspect of the village was the four-year-old bakery, right next door to a farm shop.

A bakery with only apple containing goods.

And the friendly faces of Merlin and Arthur, who always got hounded by jokes and questions about the myth. The legend. They’d be behind the counter every day, no matter what. And at times throughout the day, one of them would be off baking in the back. They became known as _those two with the apples_ and attracted customers from all over the place. To Betty’s surprise – their landlady and owner of the farm shop next door – who kindly sold any apples not going towards the bakery.

Another mysterious factor in the business was how they used only two types of apples, from their orchard, all year round. And how apple conservationists popped in to check the Old Pearmain, convinced that it was the original. Which only brought more questions no one could answer.

Merlin and Arthur had to go about their days trying to convince people they just bought the plants. But no one, at least not locally, believed them. Because it was Merlin and Arthur, the two men who had become a village tale. Jokes about how they were lying about their names or jokes about magic, soon became more than that. Jokes turned into rumours, which turned into half-truths. People were getting there, about what was going on. But Merlin and Arthur would just laugh it off.

Then it became common knowledge about how a pub in the next village over had ‘Merlin’ and ‘Arthur’ carved into their bar, from centuries ago. Or how people just knew that the orchard came out of nowhere. Or how some said they had seen a guy in chainmail, late in a November night, years ago.

But still, Merlin and Arthur shook it off, rebutting all these absurd village rumours with jokes and plenty of chuckling. Yet, those reactions only seemed to solidify what the people thought. And whispers could always be heard in the bakery.

Besides, business was good and all the village rumours only seemed to bring in more customers.

Merlin closed up the bakery after yet another day of hard work. He picked up a damp cloth and began wiping down the counter and the display cabinets. While Arthur was in the back, cleaning up the worktops that were only slightly covered in flour. As they were tidying up, Betty came into the shop, large as life.

“Boys,” she called, attempting to get their attention.

Merlin put down his damp cloth, grinning, and he poked his head through the door to the back. Soon, Arthur came into the main part of the bakery and stood next to Merlin, as if they were ready to serve a customer.

“Betty…!” Arthur said, smiling.

“How are you two feeling about tomorrow?”

Merlin and Arthur exchanged a smile, joy was plastered over both of their faces.

“Good,” Merlin replied, beaming.

“Yeah, good,” Arthur said, nodding, grinning with glee.

“And you’re not having a stag night? Neither of you?”

They both shook their heads and shrugged. They hardly cared for this new culture of getting hammered the night before your wedding. No, they were just going to have a calm night in, fresh and ready for the morning.

“I know my boys would love to take you to all the pubs.”

“I’m sure they would.” Arthur smiled. “But Merlin and I want to have the night in.”

“Hmm. Alright.” She drew a breath in, a question lingered in her mind. “But do tell me, why aren’t you having a legally binding wedding? Why are you only having the ceremony?”

“It’s a long story and not one you would ever believe,” Merlin said, gaining a startled glare from Arthur.

She stepped forward. “Does it, by any chance, have anything to do with all the rumours?”

“…Something like that,” Arthur remarked.

She nodded, knowingly. “You’re the real King Arthur and you’re the real Merlin, aren’t you?” She narrowed her eyes. “I’ve seen you, in the back and things are moving on their own. I know you keep the door locked but, I do have cameras.”

“I…” Merlin turned to Arthur. “I never thought about the cameras!” He glowered with widened eyes.

“Betty-” Arthur began but trailed off as Betty raised her hand, requesting silence.

“You don’t have to defend yourselves. I won’t say anything. I’m a simple soul, I only want you two to be happy.”

“We-” Merlin attempted before Betty cut in, again.

“And you can’t have a legally binding marriage because that would tie you to the system. And two people from the dark ages getting married in the twenty-first century is, by no means, an easy thing to explain.”

“Not at all,” Arthur said.

“Then I understand why our deal is so bizarre. You can’t properly rent this place out because, otherwise, it would tie you to records.”

“It was easier, in the past, to get away with it but… things can be traced back too easily these days,” Merlin remarked.

Betty nodded. “For as long as I live, you’re safe here.”

“Thank you,” Merlin said.

“Yeah, thank you, Betty. We’ll see you tomorrow.” Arthur smiled and Betty returned the gesture before leaving the bakery.

“…That was unexpected,” Merlin stated.

“It feels good, I think. For someone else to know…” Arthur twisted his mouth, in thought. “With all the secrets, I now fully understand how you felt. Why you… lied, for all those years.”

“Safety,” Merlin remarked, a sigh escaping his throat.

“Exactly that.”

Merlin faintly smiled, ready to change the subject. “Tomorrow, are we actually using the excuse of a themed wedding so the ordinate uses the Camelot words?”

“Yes. I want our wedding to be a link back to home.” Arthur’s eyes seemed to fill with sorrow.

“Even if it’s not legally binding?”

“I was the King of Camelot once, and if we use the words, it will be, to us. That’s all that matters.”

The two of them smiled and collapsed into a hug. A full embrace and a happy one too. They were brimming with excitement for their ceremony.

“I can’t wait to get married to you,” Merlin said.

“Who would have thought the day would ever come?”

“I think half of the castle at one point… Definitely Leon.”

“Poetry,” Arthur eked out, almost choking on the word.

Merlin chuckled. “He didn’t believe us, did he?”

Arthur grinned. “No, I don’t think he did.”

Morning! It always comes around the corner before you know it. Sun shining, horses neighing (especially ones called neighing) and people waking. With a pillow smashing against their face.

“Wakey-wakey!” Arthur exclaimed as he chucked his pillow off of Merlin’s head.

Merlin groaned and stretched awake. “What time is it…?”

“Six. But, I thought we should get up now and… well it’s at twelve.”

“You woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep?” Merlin asked, seeing through, or really, hearing through Arthur’s excuse.

“I’m excited! Of course I couldn’t get back to sleep.”

Merlin propped himself up, leaning on his elbow. “We’ll be married in a few hours, making our love known to almost everyone in the village.”

“I still can’t quite believe our wedding cake is an apple cake.” Arthur beamed.

“Seemed fitting.”

The two of them shared a fleeting and loving kiss before Arthur jumped out of the bed, darting to the door. Merlin rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling letting a breath out as Arthur left the room.

“…I can’t believe I’m marrying Arthur,” he murmured to himself. “Actually, _**marrying**_ Arthur.” His eyes lit up and an uncontrollable smile appeared on his face as he lay there, with his thoughts preparing him for the day.

Arthur was busy in the spare bedroom getting himself ready, prepping himself up. Today, was a day, that he had thought of for centuries. He’d think of it as he watched Merlin sleep or while he was cooking tea or even just, reading the news. It had been a thought he could never rid and he tended to welcome it with open arms. And as he observed times change, his heart became hopeful of what the future could be like. This, to him, still felt like a dream but it was happening. It truly was.

Merlin stood, hovering over the bed, looking at his immaculate suit. The light blue shirt, the royal red tie, the black jacket, the dark grey trousers and the lavender rose boutonnière. All perfect, all picked out after months of deliberating. The colours could cast their minds back, to all their times. Even the rose had a special meaning.

By the time they were both dressed, time was almost upon them. So, naturally, they took to their hair. Ruffling it about, combing it and ultimately, letting it end up in the same style it had always been.

And as Merlin was patting down his hair, he heard a knock at his door. He turned around smiling and walked over, opening the door. To reveal Arthur in a matching outfit, a smile consuming his entire being.

He offered his arm, to escort Merlin, of course. “I believe our ceremony awaits.”

“I swear this is bad luck,” Merlin said, smiling like no tomorrow.

“Luck is a social construct.” Arthur smirked, knowing fine well how Merlin would react.

“I’m going to have to take tumblr away from you,” Merlin declared as he hooked onto Arthur and the two began walking.

“You can’t stop Landra from showing me posts.”

“I wish she had never showed you those memes.”

“The gay culture ones?”

“Yes.”

“Gay culture is when your soon to be husband rejects meme culture.”

“I… don’t…”

“Speechless?”

Merlin groaned. “You know too much about memes for a medieval king.”

“And you know too little for an immortal warlock.”

“…Clotpole.”

“As I keep saying, _idiot_ , I am permanently a clotpole, so calling me one is like saying my name.”

“And calling me ‘idiot’ is just a term of endearment.”

“Who needs ‘love’, ‘dear’ or ‘darling’, when you have ‘clotpole’, ‘dollophead’, ‘idiot’, ‘prat’ and ‘girl’s petticoat’?”

“We surely don’t.” Merlin smirked.

“Precisely.”

The two arrived at the back door and Arthur pushed it open, with his foot. Just beyond the trees was the wedding of their dreams. Pretty much the whole village sat on benches that had been laid out on the grass. They’re friends and regulars. A red carpet marked out the aisle and the wedding arch was covered in all sorts of beautiful flowers. Flowers that reminded them of all they had, way back when. A man sat by a piano, ready to play.

And as Merlin and Arthur approached the beginning of the aisle, linked by their arms, the man began to play a tune. A tune that took them back to Camelot and how things sounded back then, a perfect melody to walk up to the arch with. Hand in- I mean, arm in arm.

They ambled up, in time to the melody and everything was still. The people watching as they sauntered up. It was like the very land had stopped to watch and considering who they were, it probably did. Destiny, fate, prophecy and magic had brought them here, it was meant to be. Just like how all that had happened to them, in the past, was meant to be. It had all been set since the dawn of time.

They stopped at the altar, or the wedding arch and stood opposite each other, holding hands. Barely wanting to spend a second without holding on to one another.

The ordinate – who looked eerily similar to Geoffrey - looked from Arthur to Merlin, then back to Arthur. “Are you sure about these words?” he asked.

“We’re sure, just read them, _please_ ,” Arthur said, with a smile.

The ordinate nodded and began. “My lords, ladies, and gentlemen of Camelot, we are gathered here today to celebrate, by the ancient rite of hand-fasting, the union of Arthur Pendragon and Merlin Ealdor.” His eyes widened as he realised what the hell he was saying.

“Is it your wish, Arthur, to become one with this man?”

“It is.” Arthur smiled, as much as he could.

“Is it your wish, Merlin, to become one with this man?”

“It is.” Merlin smiled in such a way that would make you melt at the very sight.

“Do any say nay? No? Then as we gather here today, we are all witness to this rite.” He picked up the garland from the table beside him. It was traditional, at least by Camelot’s terms. Red and yellow flowers amongst rich green leaves. “With this garland, I do tie a knot, and by doing so, bind your hands and your hearts for all eternity.” He tied the lush green garland around and smiled, without any confusion in his poor face this time around.

“Arthur… if you will…”

“I, Arthur Pendragon, shall not seek to change thee in any way. I shall respect and love thee till the end of time.” His voice was soft and the sincerest it could ever be, so full of love.

“And… Merlin…”

“I, Merlin Ealdor, shall not seek to change thee in any way. I shall respect and love thee till the end of time.” His eyes were conveying every joyous emotion, his smile only widened.

“Then, by the sacred laws vested in me, I now pronounce you to be husbands!” He smiled, joyously. “You may kiss.”

They both leant in, kissing softly and tenderly. Which led to the inevitable loud clapping from their village audience. The image that was created was one of a kind and a wondrous friend of theirs acted as the photographer, capturing the moment. In which, as they were kissing, the sun cast over them while the rest of the land lay in shadows. It was only for that one second but, something in the world had changed, just for the two. Perhaps some magic was involved… somewhere… down the line…

Pubs are nice, for wedding receptions and all. Especially when said pub has your names carved into the bar, centuries before this moment. And totally doesn’t relate back to you, at all. Just a happy coincidence. Which has nothing to do with immortality or magic, whatsoever. Or maybe it does, but that’s all very hush-hush.

The people who had decided to stick around, poured into the pub. Merlin and Arthur took to a booth, leaning against each other as the buffet was being set out, along with the cake. They both also, now, had a sliver ring upon their ring finger. On their table, seemed to be a bowl of pickled eggs and two glasses of wine. It was a simple reception, nothing too fancy or extravagant. A slice of normal, for the warlock and the king.

Betty approached our duo, with her two sons behind her. Both in their thirties. They looked like bodyguards. Not that a woman in her late-fifties – who runs a farm shop – would need bodyguards, but that’s beside the point.

“You two looked so magical up there today. The ceremony was something worth legends,” Betty remarked, to which Merlin and Arthur smiled, knowingly.

Betty’s sons pulled up a few chairs and they all, as a whole, ended up looking like they were sitting in their own private circle. They started with a bit of small talk about the wedding but soon, Betty’s sons got curious.

“So… Camelot was in this region?” one asked.

Arthur nodded. “It was, indeed, Oliver. The kingdom itself lay mostly in Wales.”

“Its area was mainly from where Shropshire starts and Radnorshire ends,” Merlin said.

“But historians don’t know this, how do you two?” her other son wondered.

“…We did our research, Blake,” Arthur assured.

“But… how?” Oliver further inquired.

Merlin shrugged. “It required a lot of time,” he asserted.

“Hm, I bet you two are the real Arthur and Merlin,” Blake joked, laughing his head off. Oliver joined in and Betty only gave an apologetic smile. To uphold their act, Merlin and Arthur (awkwardly) laughed.

“Oliver, Blake… Why don’t you get some food from the buffet? And get me a plate too,” Betty said.

“Mum, we’re not-”

“Go…”

Oliver and Blake got up and made their way towards the food, with moody expressions on. As if they were teenagers but they were far from it. Especially since Oliver had a daughter, who came running over to him as he moved towards the buffet.

Betty tilted her head. “Sorry about those two.”

“It’s fine, they’re curious, it’s to be expected,” Merlin said.

“Your words, today, does that make your marriage legal in Camelot’s laws?” Betty wondered.

Arthur nodded, smiling with a joyous yet burdened look. “It does. If Camelot was still here, Merlin would be King Merlin.”

Merlin grinned. “Doesn’t sound right.”

“I think, King Arthur and King Merlin has a ring to it.” Betty’s eyes crinkled as she smiled.

“ _You_ , would have been the best King,” Arthur remarked, gazing at Merlin adoringly.

“That isn’t want the prophecy said.”

“Did the prophecy predict all this?”

Merlin shrugged. “It did say we were soulmates, maybe this is part of it.”

“Your lives are ruled by destiny? Betty questioned, a saddened tone lay in her voice.

“Our lives _were_ ruled by destiny. I’d like to think destiny has no hand in our lives anymore,” Merlin said.

“And you’re soulmates?” she further asked.

“ _People_ said we were two sides of the same coin,” Arthur replied.

“Two halves of the same whole,” Merlin continued.

“Merlin was born because I was. His gifts given to him, to save my arse over and over.”

Merlin leaned closer to Arthur. “And I made you a better person.”

Arthur smiled at Merlin, like his whole life was just him… and it was, in a way. “That you did.”

Betty smiled fondly at them, a motherly instinct taking over her. Then, Oliver, his daughter and Blake returned. Oliver pulled up another chair and his daughter climbed onto it. She had a plate only consisting of chicken nuggets and sausage rolls, a wonderful meal.

It had been a buffet trip that would, one day, become a remarkable story. Everything from, food being stolen from their plates by children, to the olives disappearing then reappearing almost magically. As they told the story of the olives, Arthur glanced to Merlin who just winked at him.

“Sounds like a nightmare,” Merlin said.

“You have no idea, Merlin. It was nuts!” Blake exclaimed.

“Well, we have to go greet some of the other guests. Enjoy your food,” Arthur remarked.

“After that trip, I’ll be sure to savour it,” Oliver responded.

As the two got up and left the table behind, Arthur ushered Merlin to a quiet spot. Safe from the preying eyes and ears of the guests.

“Why…?” Arthur questioned, smiling.

“Why what?”

“The olives.”

“You know it’s easy to mess with them, they’ll never believe anything is at play.”

“You can be truly mysterious sometimes.”

Merlin smirked. “Part of my charm.”

Arthur placed his hand upon Merlin’s neck and pulled his lips to his own. There was something especially soft about this kiss, it seemed to be calming and beautiful and without any pressure or desperation. Just the purest of love at work. Full of everything good, everything they had. Because this was their wedding day, whether this era would recognise that or not. Arthur parted slowly, placing a kiss on Merlin’s cheek.

Merlin’s eyes fluttered open, with happiness. “I love you.”

Arthur smiled, more than words could ever express. “I love you too.”

“Time for the cake?”

“Yes… I can’t wait for more apples.”

“Your fault.”

“I take full responsibility.”

“You should.”

The two smiled and laughed and made their way to the cake. The cake itself was an apple cake on the inside but on the outside, it had a theme going. It had an earthy coloured icing, with little icing trees on the lower layers, creating a forest effect. On the top layer, sat a perfectly replicated icing Camelot castle. With an icing Merlin and Arthur in front of it, holding icing hands. With Arthur in his traditional knight clothing and Merlin in his old clothing.

They caught the people’s attention, got a few pictures with and of the cake. And cut the bottom layer, doing everything to preserve the top. Even though it wasn’t Camelot, somehow it made them feel at home. After all, if you took a picture from the right angle, it would look as if you took a picture of the castle itself.

“Apples,” Arthur murmured with a chuckle as he tasted the cake.

Merlin chortled and in the process, almost choked on his piece of cake. “Is it appley enough for you… my lord?”

Arthur glared at Merlin, with a look of conflict. “That sounds peculiar now. Like it was never how people addressed me…”

“Would you like me to start?” Merlin asked, partly teasing.

Arthur pulled a face of disgust, like Merlin had just spat in his cake. His nose even happened to crease. “Please, don’t. It’s just… wrong. Especially for my husband.”

Merlin tilted his head. “How about in certain circumstances?”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, thinking on that one. “Never.”

“Even if that circumstance was-”

“Never,” Arthur reiterated.

Merlin chuckled. “It’s entertaining how repulsed you’re made by it.”

“We’re in the twenty-first century, I’m not a king anymore and you’re my husband, times change.” Arthur smiled and went back to the wonderfully tasting cake.

“It appears they do.” Merlin smirked and shovelled another mouthful of cake into his gob.

Time escaped their hold and soon people were clearing out. Merlin and Arthur were helping the staff clean up, along with Betty, who just wanted to single them out for another conversation.

“Where will you go for your honeymoon?” she asked, while picking up some sausage rolls that had been left in the corner.

“We were thinking of going up north, to the Lake District.” Merlin said.

“We never went that far up, back in our day,” Arthur remarked.

Merlin looked to the ceiling, in thought. “It’ll be nice to see how the landscape changed in comparison.”

Betty smiled, in wonder. “You two seem to have your whole lives ahead of you, yet you’ve lived many.”

Merlin and Arthur exchanged a glance.

“It’s a blessing and a curse,” Merlin said.

“I, technically speaking, haven’t. I was trapped only watching Merlin for fifteen centuries, while he roamed the world.”

“Roamed this _area_ , never went further,” Merlin corrected.

“You basically roamed the kingdom of Camelot for 1500 years. Which is, immense.”

Merlin’s lips twisted into a scowl. “I couldn’t go far, you could have come back at any point and… I didn’t know you were watching.”

Arthur sighed, his lips dipped. “I know…”

Betty smiled, with a certain amount of pride. “There’s no need to get upset about that. It’s your wedding night. This is a new chapter for you, don’t get stuck in the past. Live your lives how you’ve always wanted.”

The two swiftly faced Betty, giving her warm grins.

“We intend to,” Merlin declared.

Arthur reached for Merlin’s hand, taking it into his own. “You’re right, Betty. It’s good to remember the past but sometimes, I fear we still live in it.” He looked to Merlin. “Let’s remember the good times, not what was or the years we waited. We’re here, together and we always will be.”

A smile sprung to Merlin’s lips. He nodded lightly. “For an eternity.”

Betty’s eyes lit up. “Go on, you two, we’ve got it handled here.” She grinned. “Have fun on your honeymoon.”

“Thanks, Betty,” they both said at once, which sparked a few giggles.


	4. Ageing Memories

Their honeymoon. Now that was a time to keep in mind. Once they got their horses ready and supplies sorted, which included a surprising amount of apples, Merlin got to protecting the house. Showering it in a spell of protection and locking the doors not only with keys but with magic as well.

When that was all done and dusted, the two set off, heading north. To the national park of lakes and rain. Especially rain. Always rain. In fact, even if it was a clear day, that area would always manage to drizzle. Perhaps a spell was put upon the land, long ago.

Nevertheless, after several days of riding, Merlin and Arthur arrived. Which, in broader terms means, they found a place to finally stop and rest and stayed there. They camped in a forest or wood and would venture out to villages during the day. Restocking supplies and taking in the various sites.

Castles were a particular interest of Arthur’s. The way that some still stood, as if they were currently in use. And the way that some lay in ruins, with only a few walls still standing. It was fascinating to him, seeing that some survived while others did not. At one point, they had ended up in Penrith, at the castle. Arthur, at first, enthused about the orange stones and the slightly overgrown moat. But, he quickly became even more excited at the information provided on a board.

“King Richard III? I don’t remember that time period well. I need to brush up on some history,” Arthur said.

“King Richard III was the last Yorkist King. He died in battle and that ended the war of the roses. Which is partly why the Windsor family is the only royal family in Britain,” Merlin explained.

Arthur nodded, slightly. “Ahh, I remember now. Richard III was the one they found in the car park a few years back, right?”

Merlin giggled. “Yes, they did! Which is still hilarious.”

“Of course it wasn’t a car park at the time but… to think, cars being on top of you for years and then being found like that?”

“Too funny,” Merlin said as he wiped joyous tears from his eyes, from all his giggling.

Arthur laughed. “It is a bit. He must have been displeased when they built a slab of tarmac on top of him.”

“I can imagine that being a bit frustrating.” Merlin continued giggling while he talked, unable to stop himself.

Arthur slowly but surely calmed himself down. “You said that his death is partly why the Windsor’s are the only royal family in Britain, why?”

“Because the Tudors became the royal family of England after Richard III died, and when Queen Elizabeth I died, King James IV of Scotland became King James I of England. He created a union of the crowns. And, eventually, Britain became Britain and there was only one royal family.”

“I presume they put a rule in place, to prevent other descendants from rising to the throne?”

“Yes, they did. And if we use a direct line from William the Conqueror, an actor is more entitled to the throne than the royal family of today.”

“Wow…” Arthur stared into space for a moment, taking the information in. He drew in a small breath. “…It’s strange, that their kingdom is the whole of Britain. Camelot was so small in comparison.”

“Hence the name, United Kingdom. You know because the kingdoms became… united. ‘Course that was to do with England and Scotland rather than the kingdoms that used to exist. But, you get the point.”

“Yes, I do. It’s pretentious that they named the kingdom as a whole, Great Britain. I’ve seen this place develop as much as you have, there was nothing great about it.”

“For a medieval king, you’re progressive.”

“When I ruled, you know it wasn’t about power or gaining more land. It was about preserving the people and keeping the peace. Great Britain stole a quarter of the world and people suffered.”

“They did… It’s a shame people never keep the peace. Imagine what the world would be like.”

“It would be far nicer.”

Afterwards, they continued their trip around the Lake District. Going on great rides around the scenic and mountainous areas. Eating out at all the little tea rooms and small pubs. From time to time, Merlin would entertain Arthur by the campfire, telling him stories or showing him some special magic. Magic which would bring the stories alive, in some cases.

And on one of their last nights in the woods, Merlin took to a particular story. A story about a servant who bravely (emphasis on bravely), drank from a poisoned chalice. One he knew was poisoned but would drink from it anyway, to help prove a point but mainly, to save his prince. But the poison was powerful, it was magical. The stupid imbecile of a prince risked life and limb to save the poor serving boy. Not once did he think to leave the plant behind, even when spiders were certainly going to kill him.

“But lucky for the prince, he was guided by a light.” Merlin smirked. “ _Fromum feohgiftum on fæder bearme. Fromum feohgiftum_.” A blue light appeared in his hands, moving fluidly. And right beside Arthur, a blue ball of light lowered in front of him, hovering in the air. Arthur smiled at it, his eyes filled with delight.

“My light in the darkness,” Arthur murmured.

The light faded from Merlin’s hand and so did the hovering ball. “Gwen almost found out about my magic, during those few days…”

“Really?”

“Kept murmuring spells in my sleep, to watch over you.”

“Merlin… how were you never caught?” Arthur shook his head, a large smile consumed him.

Merlin smirked but that quickly transformed into a small chuckle. “Magic.” He smiled. “A better question is, how did you never work it out?”

“I thought you were a fumbling idiot.” Arthur smiled, with pride. “Not the most powerful warlock to ever walk the earth. _I_ wanted to protect _you_.”

“And you did. Plenty of times.”

“I think you were doing more of the protecting.”

Merlin shrugged. “We both saved each other, that’s what matters.”

“Mmm, rightly so.”

Merlin smiled. “Is there any magic you would like to see?”

“Can… you make a Pendragon dragon- but not out of fire?”

Merlin thought for a moment, clear from the fact that his eyes narrowed. “You don’t make it easy.”

“You’re the greatest sorcerer ever known, I’m sure you can think of something.”

Merlin grinned as he shook his head. He looked around the environment, spotting a bunch of wild flowers in the distance. “ _Heorotcropas, cume æt mec_.” The darkness illuminated Merlin’s eyes even more so than usual, allowing Arthur to see the gold in all its glory. The flower petals plucked themselves from the stem of their flower and flew over to the space in front of Merlin and Arthur. “ _Draca_.” The flowers immediately rearranged themselves. The darker ones created shading while the lighter ones created the dragon itself. And soon, a flower Pendragon dragon was floating in the air.

Merlin glanced to Arthur and smiled. While Arthur only admired the display, his eyes were full of wonder and such an innocent smile lay upon his lips. After a few moments, a gust of wind caught the flowers, taking them away and disrupting the display.

“Beautiful…” Arthur whispered, his eyes lingering on the petals that were floating to the ground.

“…It is.”

“Your magic is useful…” Arthur said, thinking out loud, “but it’s stunning as well. It can create life, heal people and produce wonderful art.” He drew his knees to his chest. “It should be ripe in this world. It should be helping people, not stuck in the shadows… Not stuck only in you.”

“Magic died out… on its own. I’m only here because I’m immortal.” Merlin frowned, his bottom lip ever so slightly quivered. “Who knows what the future holds for magic.”

Arthur looked to Merlin, he tried to smile through the frown that had taken over him. “Maybe it’ll come back, one day, and we’ll be here to help.”

“What, like, someone is born a sorcerer and we’re here to help them through it?”

Arthur nodded. “Yes.”

Merlin’s lips dipped, he shook his head, shrugging. “We’ll just have to wait…”

“And see,” Arthur completed.

As the morning came around, the two were packing up their campsite, attaching their belongings to the horses once more. Their attention, however, was more focused on what their plans were for the day. Where their journey would take them next. And while Merlin was brainstorming, Arthur had the most fantastic idea of… going to another castle.

“Don’t you grow tired of them?” Merlin asked.

“Each one is unique and in its own distinct condition. I would like to see another.”

Merlin smiled. “You know… I just remembered a castle in the Yorkshire Dales. It isn’t far from here, it’s less than a day’s ride in fact.”

“Anything special about it?”

“Its name is… Pendragon Castle.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Why…? This is nowhere near to where Camelot was.”

“From what I remember reading, there’s no evidence of it existing before the twelfth century.”

“So… it’s just another one of those legendary stories?”

“Exactly, made up by someone who had no idea what they were talking about.”

Arthur climbed onto his horse. “Lead the way.”

Merlin chuckled and clambered onto his horse. The two cut through fields, rode along roads, went on the most picturesque of routes possible and simply enjoyed a day of riding. Of being in the saddle and seeing the landscape, the place the country had become. And for Arthur, this trip was the furthest he’d been in a long time, or at all. The place may have not been covered in forest any longer, but it’s sights were still beautiful and captivating. With fields of crops or grass, with wild flowers spurting up of the ground and heather dominating vast areas. It was all unique, all magnificent.

Arthur was constantly taken aback, because it’s one thing seeing the land change and watching it. It’s another to feel it and see it right in front of you, to taste its air. It was good, for the both of them, to go this far out. Due to their line of work, escaping the village was hard enough, never mind going on a holiday of this duration. But due to Merlin’s activities over the years, they had plenty of money. Enough to last them plenty of lifetimes.

With their riding skills, they were in the Yorkshire Dales in no time at all, approaching where the castle was located. Even from a distance, it was quite breath-taking. It was definitely falling apart and was in ruins, care was to be taken since it was so delicate. The area was surrounded in lush green fields, hills lying in the backdrop. Of course, it was surrounded by a wall and a river ran alongside it. Perfect for a castle, so sadly fading to nothing.

Merlin and Arthur hopped down from their horses and tied them to a tree. They observed the outside of the castle for a while. Seeing it as invaders would have seen it. A force to be reckoned with. And while it was hardly standing, it still seemed threatening. In its own charming way.

As the two walked inside, or as inside as it gets. They were both instantly in awe. Wide eyes, raised eyebrows, frozen. They admired the flowers that had grown into the stone, the beautiful purple flowers. And the rich green moss that had become a known feature in ruins such as these. The way that the ground had clearly risen since the castle was built, from years of whatever, was especially striking.

Arthur grabbed Merlin’s hand, using it to pull him into a kiss. The perfect way to sum up a romantic ruin, is to passionately kiss your husband while you’re within the walls. They were lucky, in a way, because a photographer had popped up to see the castle and, in turn, took a picture of the two. When they parted, they didn’t even notice the photographer until they spoke up.

“Uh, excuse me?” they said.

Arthur and Merlin nearly jumped out of their skins. They swiftly turned to the young photographer. Arthur rubbed his neck while Merlin just smiled. The photographer’s eyes crinkled at the sight.

“I’m sorry to intrude,” they said. “My name is, Jaymee Richardson. I was taking a photograph of the castle and happened to catch you two in it… Would you mind if I still use it?”

Merlin grinned. “Is it a good picture?”

Jaymee instantly pulled the camera from their neck and showed Merlin and Arthur. It was yet another faultless picture of them. Everything around was so stunning, the castle, the flowers, the two of them. It was absolutely romantic and truly captivating.

Arthur wrapped his arm around Merlin. “If we can get a copy, then you can use it however you like.” He smiled, showing that it was all ok.

Jaymee pulled a notebook and pen from their pocket. “What’s your email address?”

Merlin’s eyes became shifty, he had never dared speak of his… embarrassing email address, especially not in front of Arthur. He cleared his throat. “Uhh. arthurwasacabbagehead.andIlovedhim@hotmail.co.uk...”

Arthur snorted, his chuckling took over every other sound in the nearby vicinity. He laughed so hard that his stomach began to hurt and his knees became weak. Jaymee stood there awkwardly, wondering why exactly Arthur was almost on the ground laughing. Merlin observed the sight, shaking his head.

“It isn’t funny!” he squealed.

“It- is- funny- too- funny-” Arthur attempted to speak, through his laughing, though he failed quite spectacularly.

“You… haven’t heard his email before?” Jaymee wondered. “You’re married.” They pointed at the rings. “Shouldn’t you know this?”

“We live an extremely rural life, I never use my email, he’s never heard it,” Merlin explained.

“Oh…” Jaymee stared at the still wailing with laughter Arthur. “Um… I’ll be sure to send it to you when I get home… I’ll leave you to it.”

And Jaymee was off in a flash, leaving the two alone in the castle. While Arthur was still laughing his head off, he tried to calm himself down by wiping the tears that had accumulated away. As he straightened up, his chuckling had devolved to light sniggering and soon, disappearing entirely.

“Not that funny,” Merlin scorned as he folded his arms.

“It’s funny,” Arthur maintained, while still clearing his eyes of joyous tears.

“Why?”

“Because that email address is iconic.”

“I’m glad my loneliness entertains you.” Merlin tilted his head, displeased.

“Don’t pull that card with me.” Arthur grasped Merlin’s shoulders. “As Betty said, no more being stuck in the past. We’re here **now**. We laugh at what makes us laugh, and we don’t waste a second of that happiness, alright?”

Merlin smiled, with understanding. “Alright…” He pulled Arthur into a hug, a warm one, combating the wind that was brushing past them. “I love you.”

Arthur held Merlin close, smiling. “Love you too, idiot.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Prat.”

“There’s my Merlin…” Arthur’s eyes lit up.

“I hate you.”

“You couldn’t hate me even if you tried.”

The two withdrew from the hug, big smiles drawn across their faces. They left the ruined castle behind, returning to their horses. Now, their journey consisted of one last thing, going home. After a few weeks of blissful holiday, retracting all their worries, they were more than ready to return. To go back to their house, their stables and orchard. To the bakery and the village down the road. To the people who had come to know them over the years.

Years… Yes, years. That was an interesting concept, wasn’t it? Because for Merlin and Arthur, years were like seconds in comparison to how much time they had seen pass by. Kids became adults, adults became older, and in some cases, they became pensioners. And the earth had aged some more. That’s life, ageing. Things age. Even immortal warlocks, no matter if it doesn’t show. You still become old, or your soul does, your very being.

Merlin and Arthur were lying in bed, having a lazy daisy start to the morning. Arthur had his head lain upon Merlin’s chest and Merlin was playing with Arthur’s hair, repeatedly combing his fingers through it, therapeutically.

“We need to introduce something new to the shop,” Arthur said, his voice thick with lazy tiredness.

“Why?” Merlin wondered.

“Because we’ve kept it the same for _thirty-five_ years.”

“We already do everything imaginable. Pies, cakes, sauces, jams, crumble-”

“There has to be something,” Arthur interrupted before Merlin went on an endless ramble about all they sold.

They sat in silence for a long while, thinking. Eventually, the conversation faded from their minds as they relaxed in their tired yet awake states. Just lying there, together, but in their own minds.

“We could make an illusion cake that looks like cheese and tastes like apple pie,” Merlin finally suggested.

Arthur raised his eyebrow. “Why?” Then his expression dropped as realisation hit him. “Gwaine’s dream…”

“I have no idea why we remember that...”

“I suppose it’s one of those hidden memories, things we remember but don’t recall.”

“Hmm.”

“We should do it, though. Just to honour his… his…”

“His personality?”

“Yes, his personality.”

“What would we call it?”

“Gwaine’s Cheese Apple Pie Cake?”

“Too long…”

“Gwaine’s Dream?”

“Simple… mysterious… short. I like it.”

Once they decided to get up, the two took to the kitchen. They pulled out the recipe book and got to work. Using their vast knowledge of apples and baking to create what would only be a masterpiece. They crafted up a cake, which had the distinct taste of apple pie. How? Well, you make the components of an apple pie, grind it down and incorporate it into your cake mix. Finding the balance. Then you bake the cake. Next, you create some fondant icing, making it the colour of a cheddar cheese wheel. After which, you apply the fondant to the cake and finish up with some detailing.

Suddenly this new cake became the talk of the village. It really did look like cheese, until you realised it was a cake inside, that tasted like apple pie. That’s most certainly one way to mess up your senses. Everyone who ended up in the bakery would ask about it, and almost all who visited bought said cake.

As usual, time rushed by. Merlin and Arthur were in their infamous village bakery. Infamous, nowadays, just to the village. Though, people did enjoy going if they ended up in the area. At this particular point in time, there were a couple teenagers in the bakery. Looking at some jams or… cake.

“Did you know this bakery opened the year my mum was born, Taylor?” one said, whispering.

“Wow… It would have opened before my parents were born then, Lucy.”

“Well, my grandfather says _they’ve_ been here since the start.” Lucy pointed to Merlin and Arthur, who were both serving a customer.

“Really? I think my mum has said something similar before.”

“Apparently, it’s a village wide conspiracy. They’re all sworn to secrecy or something.”

“May I help you two with anything?” Merlin asked, in a sweet voice, appearing out of nowhere.

Lucy swiftly turned to him. “How old are you?”

“Uhh, that’s a strange question. But I’m twenty-nine.”

“If you’re twenty-nine, how have you been running this bakery for decades?”

Merlin’s eyes shifted. “I haven’t… My father did and I see how you can be confused, when he was young he looked like me.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes, full of suspicion. “And your father, Merlin, called you Merlin and… Arthur over there is a different Arthur that looks the same as his father, I presume? Making you… broth-”

“Ok. Stop. You’ve caught me.” Merlin smiled. “It’s true what the village says, we have had copious amounts of work done to make us still look young.”

Lucy tilted her head. “…That isn’t what the village says. My grandfather says you two don’t age.”

Merlin huffed. “Oliver was always a loose cannon. He’d do anything to… prank us.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You should, because it’s the truth,” Arthur said, arriving by Merlin’s side.

“There’s pictures of you! From decades ago! You. Don’t. Age. Why lie? We’re not going to post it on the internet, or drag the media here. We’re part of the village, we are sworn to secrecy like the rest!”

Merlin folded his arms. “Oh, is that so?”

“I don’t even like social media! It’s so old and decrepit. People just talk to each other these days, it’s all hearsay, no proof.”

“Are you two saying you can keep a secret? If Oliver can’t, why can you?” Arthur asked.

“We’re not _her_ grandfather,” Taylor scorned.

Merlin and Arthur nodded and smiled, and walked away. Which was a sure enough answer for the two teenagers. They were right and saw through the lies, unlike some people. The people of the village were loyal. They had to be, it was a small enough place. Sure, gossip got around but only stayed in those circles. It could hardly spread like wildfire and if it did spread, it didn’t go far. Allowing Merlin and Arthur all the cover they needed.

Later in the day, while Merlin and Arthur were busy with customers, two older women came in. They were clearly in their eighties and both pottered around for a while. Looking at the apples and the products, such as the jams. Once the line was clear, they came up to Merlin and Arthur and both placed their jams down, paying from them.

“I know we haven’t visited Betty for many years but you two haven’t aged a day!” one said.

“What’s your secret?” the other asked.

Merlin and Arthur got ready to tell yet another lie. Something about how they mistook them for someone else or how they have good ageing genes. Or how they were younger than most thought back in the teenies. But fortunately for them, someone saved the day.

“Helen, Dixie, they’re billionaires, didn’t you know? They have access to the best plastic surgery technology,” a familiar voice said.

One of the women turned around and smiled. “Betty! We were just coming to see you. Why are you here?”

“Came in for some apple jam, ran out of my favourite this morning.” Betty smiled and went to the corner of the shop, searching for her favourite.

The women turned back to Merlin and Arthur.

“We had no idea you two would go for that, _plastic surgery_ ,” Helen remarked, in a snobbish way, as if the practice was _common_.

“Seems extreme,” Dixie said.

Merlin glanced at Arthur and shrugged. “We did it on the whim really. I doubt we’ll ever really age.”

“We’ll look like this for a long time I feel.” Arthur smiled, trying to diffuse the situation and any suspicion.

“I suppose looking young isn’t that bad, but age is a fine thing,” Helen affirmed.

Betty returned to the counter, slamming money upon it. She ushered her friends away and they separated off into another conversation. Leaving Merlin and Arthur behind.

When Betty appeared back at the counter, once her friends had agreed to meet her elsewhere, Merlin had just sold yet another Gwaine’s Cheese Apple Pie Cake- I mean, Gwaine’s Dream.

“How **_are_** you two going to deal with all that?” she wondered.

“The, ‘you haven’t aged a day’ problem?” Arthur said.

“Yes.”

“We’ll deal with it the same way we always do, pretend it isn’t a problem. Pretend we’re younger than we are. Pretend we get plastic surgery or we age well,” Merlin stated.

Betty put her motherly face on, one full of worry. “It’s all fine and well the village knowing. They can work it out on their own, but what about customers from afar? You can’t keep this a secret forever, how long can you keep this up?”

Arthur shrugged. “One day, we’ll move on. We’ll leave the village and stay out of sight.”

Betty shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Promise something for me, boys, if it ever becomes dangerous for you, move immediately. If your house ever becomes too well known, **run**. Just… make sure you never get caught. I would hate to think what would happen.”

Merlin diverted his eyes to the ground, frowning. “I’ve lived in this area ever since Camelot fell… I can’t imagine not being here.”

Betty gave Merlin a stern look. “You must know that home isn’t the house, it’s your family.” She pointed at the both of them. “You two are each other’s home.”

Arthur smiled, sorrowfully. “We promise, Betty.”

“It’s all so different now. There’s pictures of you, from your wedding day. In your home and on the internet. You’re both all that seems to be left of a time long gone. Of a culture that’s all but a myth.” She paused, sighing. “Magic seems to live on, in both of you. Perhaps you’re it’s last manipulator, Merlin. Or, maybe there will a time where magic becomes known again.”

Merlin smiled, lightly. “I doubt that time would ever exist but I admire your optimism.”

“All I’m really trying to say is… I hope you two will live many happy lifetimes, and be sure to stay out of the system.”

Arthur scoffed, smiling. “Believe me, we will. I’m never going to get used to electricity or running hot water or radiators.”

Merlin chuckled. “I love living in the dark ages in the 2050s.”

Arthur smirked. “Is there any other way to live?”

“Not for you two there isn’t,” Betty said.

A month or two managed to pass by and the two were lounging around at home, sitting on the sofa. Arthur was glancing through a recent photography magazine while Merlin was calculating something… on a calculator.

“Found it!” Arthur exclaimed.

“The picture?”

“Yes!” Arthur passed the magazine over to Merlin. In which, a set of pictures were across two pages, and all by Jaymee Richardson. The picture of Merlin and Arthur kissing in the castle was included amongst them. The purely magical moment and also a framed picture that was somewhere in the cottage.

“They won an award for it, back then… I’m glad!”

Arthur pointed to the title of the page. “ _‘The best of Jaymee Richardson’_ , they must be a famous photographer now.”

“Seems like it. I’m surprised they sent the email, to be honest.”

Arthur shrugged, half-heartedly. “I suppose they must have known that we would have kept it.”

Merlin handed the magazine back and stared at the number that sat in his calculator. “If we keep living how we are… We have enough money to last us, precisely, a hundred lifetimes. And that doesn’t include earning more money.”

Arthur knitted his brow. “What are we classing as a _lifetime_?”

“Eighty years, since that’s still the life expectancy.”

“…How long is that then?”

“Um, eight thousand years.”

“How much money do you have?!” Arthur’s mouth hung open, in sheer shock.

“A few billion. Remember when I sold all your gold?”

“Yes…”

“At the time, I was one of the richest people out there. I put it into several banks and invested money into businesses. Eventually, I created personas to protect myself and withdrew my investments. With interest, my money got to the point where it is today.”

“Essentially, you got rich off Camelot’s riches?”

“Yes, I had to sustain myself. I never thought I’d become so rich. But trust me, any dangerous magical items are safely buried under where Camelot used to be, or were destroyed.”

Arthur nodded. “Good…”

Merlin glanced down, to the floor. He deflated and sighed. “We should find Excalibur.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes, concerned. “Why…?”

“I’m not sure about you but, it’s the only thing that can kill _me_.”

“Merlin…” Arthur looked to him, eyes of worry and distress.

“We’re going to alive for a long time, if we want to die one day, we need that sword.”

“Merlin-”

“Excalibur is our only way out.”

“We are **never** finding that sword.”

Merlin shook his head. “ _You_ won’t want to live forever.”

“I don’t care, as long as we’re both here, I’m happy.”

Merlin looked to Arthur, his eyes were red and full of tears. “Forever,” he reiterated.

“Then we’ll be here, forever. It doesn’t matter, alright? It doesn’t.” Arthur pulled Merlin into a hug, he rubbed his back gently, trying to ease whatever mental pain he was going through. “It doesn’t, it doesn’t, it doesn’t,” Arthur repeated, trying to get Merlin to accept it. Each time, his voice broke down until it was only quiet and barely audible.

Tears ran from Merlin’s eyes and he couldn’t help but let out a whimper. There was a lot of pain there. The memories of all those centuries alone would consume you from time to time. And Arthur, he knew Merlin’s limits well. Any talk of Excalibur was a sign of his state. It was a cry for help, because Arthur had returned due to these moments. When Merlin felt like he couldn’t go on. But he could, Arthur knew he could. They had been partners for thirty-nine years and had known each other for much longer, so Arthur knew just how much strength lay within Merlin. Both were far from mortal lives nowadays and both knew the loneliness time brought.

Watching loved ones die, while you continue to be in the same state as before. Looking young, fresh and fine. Yet you were old, so old. Your eyes conveyed that, your advice did too. How you spoke, the experience you tell. Those are signs of time, whether mortal or immortal. Living any number of years will tell you just how much you have to lose.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin whispered, into Arthur’s neck, where he had buried his head.

Arthur closed his eyes, wishing Merlin didn’t feel like this. “You’re not alone, Merlin. When you feel up to it, tell me all your troubles. Please…”

“I will… I promise.”

“This is what keeps bothering you, isn’t it? You…” Arthur trailed off, hardly finding the mental energy to say the words he was thinking. “I can’t lose you to yourself… I can’t imagine waking up with you not by my side.” Arthur breathed in deeply, his voice shook with emotion.

“You won’t, you won’t. I’ll be here, always.”

Tears traced Arthur’s face, only to fall off, soaking into Merlin’s shirt. “I love you, so, so much.”

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut. “I love you more than anything.”

Long after Betty was gone, along with her sons, and the farm shop, the bakery had finally closed. An orchard that once claimed a large chunk of land, disappeared overnight. And a cottage seemed to almost be copied and pasted from its old location, to one within the Lake District. Along with the stables.

Anyone from the village, especially Lucy and Taylor, believed things became too much. After Betty died, _those two with the apples_ became scared. They never trusted anyone with their secret as much as they trusted her. And once her sons were gone, they feared for the future. Lucy herself knew fine well how terrified they were, especially when she suggested they could keep running the bakery, without having their names recorded. Yet, they insisted it was time to go. Journalists had been crawling around and everyone knew too much. Any sign of their existence in the village ceased. And that was that. An article was released talking about modern myths and legends to gain tourism, and it was as if _those two with the apples_ never existed.

But they were just out of sight. Far away from where they used to be. They were less involved in their new community and no one knew their secret. So, they were safe. It was better for them there, they could ride in picturesque places and move from village to village quite freely. Due to how sparsed it was, no one would know who they were or would really recognise them as the years pass.

They ended up on a beach one day, full of tourists, children and locals enjoying the summer sun. The two walked along said beach, holding hands. Dogs crashed into the waves, retrieving their balls or a stick that had been thrown. Children collected up water for their moats which surrounded their grand sandcastles. Or their small ones. Really, it was a miracle if they even stood. Parents dusted off sandwiches but they still had that sandy crunch to them, even if you protected them with your life.

Then there was just Merlin and Arthur. In which Merlin would casually, yet, safely use magic on the busy beach. Making the sun stay bright for all the people and making the sea less turbulent so no kid would end up in trouble. It was like the beach had a protector that day.

“Do you miss it?” Arthur asked.

Merlin raised a single eyebrow. “Miss what?”

“The bakery.”

“Of course I do. I especially miss those who died.”

Arthur sighed. “Betty… and Oliver, Blake and Landra... The list goes on and on…”

Merlin frowned. The reminder of the friends they had lost in recent times did no favours for their mood. “I know Lucy offered a good deal but… You know how dangerous it became.”

“We’re safer here, I know. But I miss the customers, I miss the apples. Especially selling Gwaine’s Dream, that was our best time.” Arthur smiled, though, grief hid within it.

“Yeah, it was.” Merlin chortled. “And I miss the apples too.”

“Our four apple trees cannot compare to the fifty we had.”

“No… I wonder how the village dealt with the baskets we left in the park.”

Arthur giggled. “Didn’t we leave thirty?”

“Yeah.”

“I hope they ate them…”

“It’s been five years and they were preserved, I’d hope they’ve eaten them all by now.”

Arthur stroked his chin. “I wonder if anyone remembers.”

“They will remember, but once the kids who knew us are gone…”

“…No one will know we were ever there.”

“And stories will be stories and no longer memories.”

“One day, it will be nothing but a village myth. People will walk by whatever the bakery is now and talk about how it used to be an apple bakery. And the stories will say two people worked there who never aged. But those are just stories, with no truth.”

Merlin and Arthur kept walking along. The beach had a calming effect. It was noisy, from all the people and the dogs, but it was so relaxing. The two happened to be walking along the wet sand, so they were safe from the awkward struggle to walk. However, at any apt moment, they could have been threatened by waves.

“Are we going to the Jaymee Richardson tribute exhibition?” Arthur wondered.

“We might as well… They always kept us updated and I’m proud of what they achieved.”

“Me too. Remember that time they wanted another photograph of us, in the same place, but we’d be much older?”

“Oh… yeah. We had to politely decline. What was our excuse?”

Arthur thought for a second, his eyes looked upwards. “That we feared we would ruin the original.”

“Ah, yes. They were upset that we _thought_ that.”

“Yeah… Can’t quite believe they’re dead too.”

Merlin shrugged, with one shoulder. “…Everyone dies.”

“Hm.”

“One day we will too.”

Arthur gritted his teeth, his jaw clenched. “Shut up, Merlin.”

“All I’m saying is, it’s an option.”

“Not one I will ever consider.”

“Even if the world was on the brink of destruction?”

Arthur’s eyes dipped to the ground. “Depends on the destruction.”

“We **need** Excalibur.”

Arthur tightened his grip around Merlin’s hand. “In the future, maybe. Not now.”

Merlin nodded, frowning. “Ok… Alright.”

The two arrived at a village community centre, a few days later. One that was bright and full of life, because today, the Jaymee Richardson exhibition had opened. All their greatest photographs in one place. From their travels, their life and whatever they could capture on any particular day. Which happened to include the picture of Merlin and Arthur. The aim, originally, was to get the castle from a good angle but everything to do with our dearest duo was seamless and Jaymee just **had** to take the picture.

When Merlin and Arthur turned up, the place was packed. Some pictures were in collages, some were on their own. Though, all had a plaque, with a name and a description. As Merlin and Arthur came up to ‘their’ picture, they focused on the description.

_‘Pendragon Castle, in bloom, with two married men kissing within the walls. Their names are unknown but one thing is certain, they were happy here.  
**‘No… it wasn’t planned but I gained their permission afterwards. They were enthusiastic about it and they enjoy the picture greatly, even to this day.’** – Jaymee, March 2063.’_

“That’s a nice quote,” Merlin said.

“They really just took a picture of us?”

“Yes, they did.”

“I suppose, we do look especially magical.” Arthur smirked.

Merlin smiled. “That we do, love.”

“Love?” Arthur questioned, knowing it didn’t sound right.

“Yeah, sorry.” Merlin cleared his throat. “That we do, _prat_.”

“That’s better.” Arthur took a closer inspection of the plaque. “I… never noticed its name before.”

“What?” Merlin wondered as he too examined the plaque further.

“‘ _We Are Who We Are’_ ,” Arthur recited.

“That’s… fitting.”

Arthur slung his arm around Merlin and they stood there, admiring the picture. Because they were them and nothing could change that, not even years and years of alternative stories. In which most said they didn’t even exist.

What mattered, now, in the last years of the twenty-first century, was that they were comfortable. Going on daily rides. Cooking their own meals. Sourcing water from their infinite pond. Learning how to craft clothes, _old_ clothes. Living like it was the dark ages but not resenting the modern era. Keeping themselves far from being known.

_Letting themselves be themselves._

Not trying to find excuses on why they never age, not burdening people with their secret. No. They were fine here, hidden, but still who they were. Who they would always be.

Not Emrys and the Once and Future King.

Not at all.

They were and would continue to be, till the end of time…

Merlin and Arthur.


End file.
